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STRATEMEYER 


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The  battle  was  now  on  in  all  its  fury. — Page  281. 


CM    , 


Colonial   Series 


TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 


THE  YOUNG  HUNTERS  OF  THE  OHIO 


Br 
EDWARD     STRATEMEYER 

Author  of   "With  Washington   in   the    West,"   "American 

Boys'  Life  of  William  McKinley,"  "  Old  Glory 

Series,"  "  Pan-American  Series,"   "Dave 

Porter  Series,"   etc. 


ILLUSTRATED   BY  J.    W.   KENNEDY 


BOSTON" 
LOTHEOP,  LEE   &   SHEPARD   CO. 


Published  August,  iqofi 


Copyright,  1906,  by  Lothkop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 

All  rights  reserved 

Trail  and   Trading   Post 


IRorwoc^   iprese 

Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass. 

U.  S.  A. 


PREFACE 

"Trail  and  Trading  Post"  is  a  complete  story 
in  itself,  but  forms  the  sixth  and  last  volume  of  a 
line  known  under  the  general  title  of  "Colonial 
Series." 

As  I  have  mentioned  before,  when  I  started  this 
series  I  had  in  mind  to  write  not  more  than  three 
volumes,  telling  of  colonial  times  during  the  war 
between  France  and  England  for  the  possession  of 
Canada  and  the  territory  bordering  the  Great  Lakes. 
The  first  book,  entitled  "With  Washington  in  the 
West,"  told  of  the  disastrous  Braddock  campaign 
against  Fort  Duquesne;  the  second,  called  "March- 
ing on  Niagara,"  gave  many  of  the  particulars  of 
General  Forbes's  advance  against  the  same  French 
stronghold  and  likewise  the  particulars  of  the  ad- 
vance of  Generals  Prideaux  and  Johnson  against 
Fort  Niagara;  while  the  third  volume,  "At  the  Fall 
of  Montreal,"  told  of  the  heroic  fighting  of  General 
Wolfe  at  Quebec,  and  that  last  contest  which 
brought  this  long-drawn  struggle  to  a  close. 

The  war  with  France  was  now  over,  but  the 


VI  PREFACE 

Indians  were  very  bitter  against  the  English,  and  in 
a  fourth  volume,  called  "On  the  Trail  of  Pontiac," 
were  given  the  particulars  of  how  that  noted  red 
warrior  formed  a  conspiracy  among  a  number  of 
tribes  to  exterminate  the  English.  The  first  con- 
spiracy failed  to  come  to  a  head,  but  Pontiac  was  not 
disheartened,  and  in  a  fifth  volume,  "The  Fort  in 
the  Wilderness,"  were  related  how  the  warriors 
under  him  laid  siege  to  Fort  Detroit  and  Fort  Pitt, 
and  how  the  English  under  Colonel  Bouquet  won 
the  bloody  battle  of  Bushy  Run, — the  last  regular 
contest  with  the  red  men  for  some  years  to 
come. 

With  the  Indian  struggle  at  an  end,  the  English 
were  more  eager  than  ever  to  push  forward  to  the 
west,  to  establish  trading  posts  and  settlements,  and 
it  is  with  this  movement  that  the  present  volume  con- 
cerns itself.  The  advance  of  the  whites  was  watched 
with  hatred  by  the  Indians,  who  lost  no  opportunity 
to  do  them  injury.  Among  those  to  push  onward, 
to  the  fertile  country  bordering  the  Ohio  River,  were 
our  old  friends,  the  Morrises — and  what  they  did  to 
make  our  glorious  country  what  it  is  to-day  I  leave 
the  pages  which  follow  to  relate. 

In  closing  this  series  I  wish  to  thank  the  many 
thousands  who  have  shown  their  appreciation  of  my 
efforts  to  amuse  and  instruct  them.     In  penning  the 


PREFACE  Vii 

volumes  I  have  endeavored  to  be  as  accurate  his- 
torically as  possible,  and  I  trust  the  perusal  will  do 
my  young  readers  much  good. 

Edward  Stratemeyer. 
Independence  Day,  1906. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  A  Glimpse  of  the  Past 

II.  A  Buffalo  and  a  Bear 

III.  Dave  and  the  Indian 

IV.  Taken  by  Surprise 

V.  The  Flight  to  the  River 

VI.  Back  to  the  Fort 

VII.  The  Start  for  the  East    . 

VIII.  The  Massacre  of  a  Pack-Train 

IX.  Under  the  Cliff 

X.  Barringford  as  a  Scout     . 

XI.  In  Which  White  Buffalo  Appears 

XIL  Home  Once  More 

XIII.  An  Old  Enemy  Appears 

XIV.  A  Fight  with  a  Wolverine 
XV.  Wolves,  and  a  Snowstorm 

XVI.  Saved  by  a  Windstorm 

XVII.  The  Journey  to  the  Trading  Post 

XVIII.  Running  into  a  Trap 

XIX.  The  Shooting  Contest 

XX.  Another  Long  Journey 

XXI.  A  New  Move         .... 

XXII.  A  Fight  among  Wild  Beasts     . 

XXIII.  The  Rescue  of  the  Stranger   . 

ix 


page 
i 

9 

18 

28 

37 

46 

56 

65 

75 

85 

95 

105 

"5 

125 

135 

145 

155 

164 

174 
184 
194 
204 
214 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV.  Snowbound  on  the  Trail         ....  225 

XXV.  Crushing  News 234 

XXVI.  Bv  Way  of  the  Tunnel 244 

XXVII.  Holding  the  Trading  Post     ....  254 

XXVIII.  In  Which  a  Battering  Ram  Is  Used     .         .  264 

XXIX.  From  Enemies  to  Friends        ....  274 

XXX.  For  Life  or  Death 285 

XXXI.  Days  of  Peace — Conclusion     ....  297 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The    battle    was    now    on    in    all    its    fury    (page 

.287) Frontispiece 

PAGE. 

Both  were  now  getting  ready  to  renew  the  contest,       15 

"  I  think  we  had  better  take  turns  watching,"  said 
Henry 49 

He  glanced  up,  saw  his  dire  peril,  and  let  himself 

drop 77 

"  Boka  must  kill  both  before  either  awakens,"  mur- 
mured the  Indian 147 

"  A  bull's-eye  for  Henry  Morris  I" 176 

The  old  frontiersman  swept  through  the  opening    .     258 

Bevoir  pitched  headlong  into  the  smoldering  camp- 
fire  298 


TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

CHAPTER  I 

A   GLIMPSE   OF   THE   PAST 

"If  we  can  only  get  that  buffalo,  Henry,  it  will 
be  a  feather  in  our  cap." 

"Right  you  are,  Dave.  But  the  animal  may  be 
miles  and  miles  away  by  this  time.  As  you  know, 
they  can  run  a  long  distance  when  they  are 
frightened." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  well  enough,"  answered 
Dave  Morris,  as  he  rested  for  a  moment  on  the 
paddle  he  had  been  using.  "I  haven't  forgotten 
the  buffalo  that  once  knocked  our  tent  flat  and  ran 
away." 

"And  I  haven't  forgotten  how  I  went  after  him 
and  nearly  lost  my  life  tumbling  over  the  rocks  and 
down  the  big  hill,"  added  Henry.  "I  can  tell  you, 
I  don't  want  another  such  experience !" 

"Do  you  think  the  buffalo  went  around  the  head 
of  the  lake  ?" 

"He  was  headed  that  way — the  last  I  saw  of  him. 


2  TRAIL    AND   TRADING    POST 

Let  us  paddle  up  to  the  brook  and  go  ashore.  If 
the  tracks  are  there  we  can  follow  them:  if  not,  I 
reckon  we'll  have  to  give  up  the  hunt  and  content 
ourselves  with  some  small  game." 

"You  don't  suppose  that  there  any  unfriendly 
Indians  around,"  resumed  Dave  Morris,  after  a  few 
minutes  of  silence,  during  which  time  both  young 
hunters  applied  themselves  to  the  paddles  of  the 
canoe  they  occupied.  "I've  had  enough  of  fighting 
to  last  me  for  a  long  time  to  come." 

"There  is  really  no  telling  about  that,  the  redskins 
are  so  treacherous.  Down  at  the  fort  they  seem  to 
think  the  district  for  fifty  miles  around  is  clear,  but 
Sam  Barringford  told  me  to  keep  my  eyes  peeled — 
that  there  is  no  telling  yet  what  may  happen.  The 
war  is  over,  but  Pontiac  isn't  dead,  and  neither  is 
Moon  Eye,  and  a  lot  more  of  the  other  chiefs." 

"Don't  mention  Moon  Eye  to  me,"  said  Dave 
Morris,  with  a  shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders.  "That 
Indian  will  never  forgive  me  for  escaping  from  him 
with  Nell  and  the  twins.  I  suppose  he'd  give  a 
whole  lot  to  get  his  hands  on  me  again." 

"As  for  that,  he'd  like  to  get  his  hands  on  any  of 
the  men  who  fought  against  him  and  his  followers. 

The  Indians  think Wait,  Dave!     Turn  in  to 

the  shore,  quick!  I  just  saw  the  buffalo.  He  is 
back  of  the  rocks  over  yonder !" 


A   GLIMPSE   OF  THE   PAST  3 

The  canoe  was  turned  in  the  direction  indicated 
with  all  possible  speed.  Soon  it  glided  under  some 
overhanging  bushes,  and  the  paddles  were  stowed 
away  noiselessly.  Then  each  of  the  young  hunters 
caught  up  his  flint-lock  musket,  looked  to  the  prim- 
ing, to  make  certain  that  the  weapon  was  ready  for 
use,  and  stepped  ashore. 

"As  you  saw  him  first,  you  lead,"  whispered  Dave 
Morris  to  his  companion,  and  Henry  led  off,  with 
the  other  youth  close  at  his  heels.  Both  had  their 
eyes  and  ears  on  the  alert  for  whatever  might  turn 
up. 

As  the  old  readers  of  this  "Colonial  Series"  know, 
Dave  and  Henry  Morris  were  cousins,  of  about  the 
same  age,  who  when  at  home  lived  near  Will's 
Creek,  Virginia — close  to  where  the  town  of  Cum- 
berland now  stands.  Dave  was  the  only  son  of  a 
widower,  James  Morris,  who  was  a  well-known  trap- 
per and  fur  trader.  Henry  came  of  a  more  numer- 
ous family,  he  having  an  older  brother  Rodney 
and  also  a  sister  Nell,  a  bright  miss  of  tender 
years. 

In  the  first  three  volumes  of  this  series,  entitled, 
respectively,  "With  Washington  in  the  West," 
"Marching  on  Niagara,"  and  "At  the  Fall  of  Mon- 
treal," I  told  how  Dave  worked  for  the  first  Presi- 
dent of  our  country  when  the  latter  was  but  a  humble 


4  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

surveyor,  and  how  the  youth  also  served  under  his 
former  employer  during  the  memorable  and  disas- 
trous Braddock  advance  on  Fort  Duquesne — held  at 
that  time,  1755,  by  the  French,  and  located  where  the 
prosperous  city  of  Pittsburg  stands  to-day.  This 
was  really  the  opening  of  the  fourth  intercolonial 
war,  and  was  followed  by  an  attack  on  Fort  Niagara, 
and  then  by  assaults  on  Quebec,  Montreal,  and  other 
points,  in  which  fights  both  Dave  and  Henry  took 
active  parts,  doing  their  duty  as  common  soldiers  to 
the  best  of  their  ability. 

With  the  close  of  the  war  between  England  and 
France,  both  of  the  young  soldiers  were  glad  enough 
to  return  home,  which  they  did  in  company  with  a 
number  of  others,  including  Sam  Barringford,  a 
frontiersman  who  had  been  their  friend  through 
thick  and  thin,  and  also  White  Buffalo,  an  old  chief 
of  the  Delawares,  who  was  very  friendly  with  all  of 
the  Morrises  and  who  had  done  them  more  than  one 
service. 

Previous  to  the  war  Dave's  father  had  established 
a  small  trading  post  in  what  was  then  considered  the 
"far  western  country."  This  was  on  the  Kinotah, 
a  small  but  beautiful  stream  flowing  into  the  Ohio 
River.  The  trader  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  with 
a  rascally  Frenchman,  who  claimed  the  post  as  his 
own,  and  who  hired  a  number  of  Indians  to  make 


A   GLIMPSE   OF   THE   PAST  5 

war  on  Mr.  Morris,  and  at  last  the  post  had  to 
be  abandoned. 

"I  shall  go  and  re-establish  myself  in  the  west," 
said  James  Morris,  to  his  son  and  to  his  other 
relatives,  and  soon  he  set  forth  with  a  pack-train,  as 
related  in  the  fourth  volume  of  this  series,  called 
"On  the  Trail  of  Pontiac."  Dave  and  Henry  went 
with  him,  and  after  a  number  of  more  or  less  thrill- 
ing adventures,  the  site  of  the  post  was  reached. 
The  place  had  been  burned  down,  and  the  forest  for 
a  long  distance  around  was  a  mass  of  blackened 
tree-stumps.  Seeing  this,  the  party  journeyed 
further,  presently  reaching  the  Ohio,  where  a  new 
post  was  established  and  held,  despite  the  warlike 
attitude  of  Pontiac  and  many  other  Indian  chiefs. 
Once  the  trader  and  his  men  had  to  retreat  to  Fort 
Pitt  (formerly  Fort  Duquesne)  for  protection.  A 
fierce  fight  was  had  with  the  enemy  under  Jean  Be- 
voir,  the  rascally  French  trader  who  had  caused  the 
Morrises  so  much  trouble,  and  nearly  all  of  the 
enemy  were  killed,  Bevoir  himself  being  wounded 
both  in  the  arm  and  the  side. 

Pontiac's  first  conspiracy  against  the  English  had 
come  to  naught,  but  the  wily  Indian  leader  was  not 
dismayed,  and  soon  he  plotted  to  fall  upon  many  of 
the  settlements  simultaneously.  What  this  led  to 
has  been  related  in  detail  in  the  fifth  volume  of  this 


6  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

series,  entitled  "The  Fort  in  the  Wilderness."  Fort 
Detroit  was  besieged  and  likewise  Fort  Pitt  and 
many  other  points  of  lesser  importance,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  advance  of  an  English  army  from 
the  east,  with  victories  at  Bushy  Run  and  other 
points,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  massacre  of  the 
settlers  would  have  been  appalling.  As  it  was, 
James  Morris  had  to  abandon  his  new  trading  post, 
and  he  and  Flenry,  with  some  others,  reached  Fort 
Pitt  only  after  a  desperate  struggle  to  escape  the  red 
men. 

Dave,  during  this  trouble,  was  at  the  home  near 
Will's  Creek.  Here  the  effects  of  the  uprising  were 
also  felt.  White  Buffalo,  the  ever-faithful  friend, 
brought  word  to  the  Morrises,  and  they  took  their 
flight  to  Fort  Cumberland  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 

During  a  previous  winter,  when  the  snow  lay  deep 
upon  the  ground,  the  old  frontiersman,  Sam  Bar- 
ringford,  had  made  a  curious  discovery.  Wrapped 
in  a  bundle  swinging  from  a  tree  he  had  found  two 
boy  babies,  evidently  twins.  He  had  carried  the 
twins  to  the  Morris  cabin,  where  Mrs.  Morris  had 
taken  care  of  the  babes,  who,  later  on,  were  named 
Tom  and  Artie.  Barringford  learned  through 
White  Buffalo  that  a  Frenchman  at  Detroit  knew 
something  about  the  twins  and  he  determined  to  visit 
the  fort,  taking  Dave  with  him.     The  trip  brought 


A   GLIMPSE   OF   THE   PAST  7 

to  light  little  that  was  new,  but  the  old  frontiersman 
and  the  young  soldier  saw  how  Fort  Detroit  was 
besieged  and  had  much  trouble  in  getting  away. 
Then,  in  company  with  Rodney  Morris,  the  two 
joined  the  English  army  marching  westward  to 
relieve  Fort  Pitt.  After  the  battle  of  Bushy  Run 
Dave  was  made  a  prisoner  by  some  Indians  under 
Moon  Eye  and  taken  to  a  village,  where,  to  his  sur- 
prise, he  also  found  the  twins  and  Nell,  they  having 
been  stolen  some  time  previous.  Watching  his 
chances,  the  young  soldier  managed  to  escape  in  a 
canoe  during  a  violent  storm,  taking  the  little  twins 
and  his  cousin  with  him.  Later  he  was  aided  by 
White  Buffalo,  and  though  the  Indians  under  Moon 
Eye  did  their  best  to  retake  their  captives,  they  were 
soon  halted  by  James  Morris,  Rodney,  Barringford, 
Henry,  and  some  of  the  English  regulars,  and  were 
forced  to  leave  that  section  of  the  country.  Dave 
continued  on  his  way  to  Fort  Pitt  with  his  relatives 
and  friends ;  and  there  the  whole  party  rested  for  the 
time  being.  In  the  meantime  word  was  received 
from  the  east  that  matters  had  quieted  down  around 
Will's  Creek,  so  that  Joseph  Morris  and  his  wife 
could  return  to  the  old  homestead,  for  which  those 
at  the  fort  were  thankful. 

"I'd  like  to  be  back  home  myself,"  said  Rodney. 
In  years  gone  by  he  had  been  almost  a  cripple  and 


8  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

the  campaign  against  the  Indians  had  told  greatly 
upon  him. 

"I  think  you  had  better  start  before  long,"  his 
uncle  had  answered.  "Your  father  will  need  you, 
and  besides  Nell  and  the  twins  must  get  back." 

While  at  Fort  Pitt  the  Morrises  and  Sam  Barring- 
ford  had  come  in  contact  with  Benoit  Vascal,  the 
Frenchman  who  knew  something  about  the  twins. 
They  thought  Vascal  had  stolen  the  children  from 
their  parents,  but  the  Frenchman  laid  the  blame  on 
one  Paul  Camont,  who  had  been  killed  by  the  wolves 
at  the  spot  where  Tom  and  Artie  were  found. 
Benoit  Vascal  said  the  children  belonged  to  a  Mr. 
Maurice  Hamilton,  a  gentleman  who  had  visited 
America  to  look  up  some  land  claims.  It  was  said 
that  Mr.  Hamilton  had  returned  to  London  almost  a 
year  before.  A  letter  was  sent  to  England,  but  in 
those  days  it  took  a  long  time  to  cross  the  ocean,  and 
so  far  no  answer  had  been  received.  It  had  been 
decided  to  keep  Benoit  Vascal  a  prisoner  at  Fort  Pitt, 
but  the  wily  Frenchman  slipped  away  and  left  for 
parts  unknown. 


CHAPTER  II 


A    BUFFALO    AND    A    BEAR 


Two  weeks  had  passed  quietly  at  Fort  Pitt  when 
Dave  suggested  to  Henry  that  they  go  out  on  a  hunt 
for  large  game.  In  the  meantime  it  was  arranged 
that  Rodney,  Sam  Barring-ford,  and  a  number  of 
others  should  journey  to  the  east,  taking  little  Nell 
and  the  twins  with  them.  The  start  was  to  be  made 
on  the  following  Monday,  and  this  was  Thursday. 

"You  must  be  very  careful,"  said  Mr.  Morris, 
when  the  two  young  hunters  set  out  on  their  quest 
for  big  game.  ''Run  no  needless  chances,  and  if  you 
see  any  unfriendly  Indians  lose  no  time  in  returning 
to  this  fort." 

It  was  the  middle  of  September — a  clear,  cool  day, 
with  a  faint  breeze  blowing  from  the  northward. 
Dave  and  Henry  had  set  out  directly  after  breakfast, 
each  armed  with  his  long  flint-lock  musket  and  his 
hunting  knife,  and  each  carrying  a  game  bag  with  a 
day's  rations.  Both  wore  their  old  army  uniforms, 
which  were  much  the  worse  for  the  hard  usage  re- 
ceived.    But,  as  Dave  remarked,  anything  was  good 

9 


IO  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

enough  for  the  forest,  where  nobody  was  likely  to  see 
them. 

Three  hours  of  tramping  had  brought  them  to  a 
small  body  of  water,  called  by  the  Indians  Lake 
Kashaka.  Here,  drifting  about,  they  came  across 
an  Indian  canoe  containing  two  good  paddles. 
Without  hesitation  they  entered  the  canoe  and 
crossed  the  lake,  where  they  came  upon  the  track  of 
several  deer.  They  were  deliberating  upon  whether 
to  follow  the  trail  or  not  when  Henry  chanced  to 
look  up  the  lake  and  see  a  buffalo  near  some  rocks. 
The  animal  was  gazing  at  them  with  lifted  head,  and 
almost  instantly  ran  from  sight  behind  some  bushes. 

"There's  our  meat !"  cried  Henry,  and  dashed  back 
to  the  canoe.  Then  he  told  of  what  he  had  seen,  and 
the  boys  made  after  the  game,  as  already  described. 
Buffaloes  were  not  so  plentiful  in  this  section  of  the 
country  as  they  had  been  previous  to  the  coming  of 
the  English  and  French  hunters,  and  the  idea  of 
bringing  down  so  much  good  meat  at  a  single  shoot- 
ing filled  the  youths  with  keen  enthusiasm. 

It  took  the  two  young  hunters  but  a  few  minutes 
to  reach  the  spot  where  Henry  had  seen  the  buffalo. 
The  game  was  not  in  sight,  but  the  marks  of  his 
hoofs  were  plainly  to  be  seen  and  some  young  and 
tender  bushes  showed  where  he  had  been  browsing. 

"'Tis  only  a  question  of  how  far  he  had  traveled," 


A   BUFFALO   AND   A   BEAR  II 

said  Henry,  who  had  always  been  considered  the  best 
hunter  among  the  Morris  boys.  "It  may  be  only  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  and  then  again  it  may  be  six  or 
eight  miles." 

"Let  us  follow  the  trail,  at  least  for  awhile,"  an- 
swered Dave.  "It  is  plain  enough.  He  must  be  a 
pretty  heavy  fellow,  by  the  depth  of  the  marks  he 
has  left." 

"I  imagine  all  full-grown  buffaloes  are  rather 
heavy,"  answered  Henry.  "Come  on,  and  do  not 
make  any  more  noise  than  is  necessary.  We  don't 
want  him  to  get  scared  again — if  he  is  within 
hearing." 

The  trail  of  the  buffalo  led  up  a  small  hill  and  then 
down  into  a  bit  of  meadow,  where  the  grass  was 
thick  and  damp.  As  the  youths  progressed  a  flock 
of  birds  started  up  directly  in  front  of  them  and 
presently  they  caught  sight  of  three  fair-sized 
rabbits. 

"Now  just  look  at  that!"  cried  Dave,  in  vexed 
tones.  "They  seem  to  know  that  we  are  afraid  to 
shoot  at  them,  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  bigger 
game." 

"Puts  me  in  mind  of  what  Ira  Sanderson  once 
said,"  returned  his  cousin  with  a  grin.  "He  argued 
that  a  fellow  always  saw  the  best  game  when  he  was 
out  without  his  shooting-iron." 


12  TRAIL    AND    TRADING    POST 

"I  reckon  he  was  right,  Henry;  I've  seen  some  fine 
deer  when  I  didn't  have  anything  to  shoot  with." 

The  two  young  hunters  now  relapsed  into  silence, 
as  the  meadow  came  to  an  end  and  they  entered  the 
forest.  Here  there  was  a  buffalo  trail  well  defined, 
having  been  used  by  the  animals  for  many  years. 
The  trail  in  general  was  old,  but  the  fresh  hoofmarks 
of  the  single  animal  that  had  just  passed  were  easily 
followed  by  Henry,  who  was  as  good  on  a  trail  as 
the  average  Indian. 

The  forest  was  a  primeval  one,  with  great  trees 
stretching  their  branches  in  all  directions.  Mon- 
strous roots  lay  sprawled  over  the  trail,  and  they  had 
to  watch  out  that  one  or  the  other  did  not  take  a 
tumble.  The  air  was  filled  with  the  songs  and  cries 
of  birds,  while  here  and  there  they  heard  the  steady 
tap-tap  of  the  woodpecker  at  his  work.  They  could 
have  brought  down  a  dozen  squirrels  had  they  felt 
so  inclined,  and  not  a  few  chipmunks  also  showed 
themselves. 

"That  buffalo  must  have  gone  quite  a  way."  re- 
marked Henry,  as  they  came  to  a  halt  in  the  midst  of 
a  forest  glade.  "We  have  already  covered  a  good 
mile  and  a  half." 

"Don't  give  up  yet,"  pleaded  Dave,  who  had  set 
his  heart  on  returning  to  Fort  Pitt  with  the  news  of 
laying  low  the  bison. 


A    BUFFALO    AND    A    BEAR  1 3 

"Oh,  I'm  willing  enough  to  go  on,  Dave.  But 
we  have  got  to  leave  the  regular  trail  now." 

"Where  is  the  new  trail  ?" 

"Over  yonder,"  and  Henry  pointed  with  his  hand. 

"It  seems  to  me  he  left  the  regular  trail  rather 
suddenly,"  remarked  Dave,  walking  over  to  the  spot 
indicated.     "Don't  you  think  so?" 

"I  do." 

"What  for?" 

"I  don't  know,  excepting  that  something  must 
have  scared  him — some  rabbits  in  the  brush,  or  some- 
thing like  that." 

Once  more  the  two  young  hunters  pushed  forward, 
the  trail  now  leading  among  some  rocks,  where  walk- 
ing was  anything  but  agreeable.  In  some  places 
there  were  sharp  brambles  which  scratched  them  not 
a  little. 

"Henry,  that  buffalo  didn't  come  this  way  for 
nothing,"  whispered  Dave. 

"Just  what  I  think.  He  was  scared,  and  scared 
good  and  proper  too.     I  wish  I  knew  what  did  it." 

"Can  there  be  any  other  hunters  around  here  ?" 

"That  isn't  impossible.  A  number  of  the  men 
who  were  at  the  fort  have  gone  away  in  the  last  few 
days.     Some  of  them  may  be  in  this  vicinity." 

"If  they  are  I  trust  we  shoot  that  buffalo  first." 

They  now  reached  another  rise  of  ground,  beyond 


14  TRAIL    AND    TRADING    POST 

which  was  a  depression  encircled  by  bushes  and 
rocks.  As  they  mounted  the  rise  they  heard  a  pecu- 
liar snort. 

"Listen !"  whispered  Henry,  and  held  up  his 
hand. 

"It's  the  buffalo!"  answered  his  cousin.  "And 
hark !     Some  other  animal  is  there !" 

"I  think  I  know  what  it  is,  Dave.  Be  careful  now 
and  don't  make  any  more  noise." 

Guns  to  the  front,  they  crawled  up  the  rise  and 
peered  through  the  fringe  of  brushwood.  A  sight 
met  their  gaze  that  thrilled  them  to  the  heart. 

The  buffalo  was  there,  heavy-set  and  shaggy  as  to 
head  and  shoulders,  and  with  a  look  of  fierceness  in 
his  staring  eyes.  He  was  crouched  beside  a  rock, 
and  directly  in  front  of  him  was  a  small  she-bear, 
standing  on  her  hind  legs,  and  with  her  jaws  drip- 
ping with  blood.  Behind  the  bear  were  two  half- 
grown  cubs,  both  whining  because  of  wounds  in 
their  sides. 

To  Henry's  practiced  eye  the  scene  told  its  own 
story.  In  leaping  over  the  rise  of  ground  the  buf- 
falo had  come  close  to  the  den  of  the  bear  and  had 
stepped  on  both  of  the  cubs,  who  were  probably 
playing  around  at  the  time.  This  had  aroused  the 
ire  of  the  mother  bear,  and  she  had  sprung  to  the 
rescue  and  bitten  the  buffalo  in  the  flank.     The  big 


Both  had  separated,  and  were  now  getting-  ready  to  renew 
the  contest.  — Page  15. 


A   BUFFALO   AND   A   BEAR  1 5 

beast,  unable  to  proceed  on  his  flight,  had  turned 
around  and  struck  the  bear  in  the  side.  Then  both 
had  separated,  and  were  now  getting  ready  to  renew 
the  contest  between  them. 

The  mother  bear  now  uttered  a  peculiar  sound, 
and  at  this  the  cubs  retreated  to  a  hole  under  some 
rocks,  which  was  their  home.  The  next  instant  the 
buffalo  charged  once  more,  hitting  the  bear  squarely 
on  the  head  and  knocking  her  over.  But  as  she 
tumbled,  she  caught  her  enemy  by  the  neck  and  sank 
her  teeth  deeply  into  the  buffalo's  throat. 

"What  a  fight!"  whispered  Dave.  "What  shall 
we  do?" 

"Wait — but  be  ready  to  shoot,"  answered  Henry. 
"I  think  the  buffalo  will  try  to  run  for  it  in  another 
minute." 

There  was  a  snarl  and  a  snort,  and  the  buffalo  did 
his  best  to  throw  the  bear  off.  But  the  latter  clung 
fast,  in  the  meantime  clawing  rapidly  with  her  hind 
feet  at  the  bison's  forequarter.  Then  the  buffalo 
swung  around,  knocking  the  smaller  beast  against 
the  rocks  with  such  force  that  the  two  young  hunters 
heard  the  ribs  of  the  bear  crack.  She  fell  to  the 
ground  and  the  buffalo  struck  at  her  repeatedly  with 
his  hoofs. 

"It's  all  over  with  the  bear."  whispered  Dave. 
"Hadn't  we  better  shoot  at  the  buffalo  ?" 


16  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

Before  Henry  could  reply,  the  bison  swung 
around  once  more  and  made  a  leap  which,  for  the 
instant,  took  him  out  of  sight  of  both  youths.  His 
instinct  told  him  of  more  danger  in  that  vicinity, 
and  he  sprang  up  on  some  rocks  to  get  a  better  look 
around.  This  movement  brought  him  face  to  face 
with  Dave  and  Henry. 

Crack !  It  was  the  report  of  Henry's  gun,  and  the 
bullet  hit  the  bison  on  the  side  of  the  head,  not  far 
from  the  left  eye.  But  the  shot  was  merely  a  glanc- 
ing one  and  did  little  damage.  Then  Dave 
fired,  hitting  the  beast  in  the  fleshy  part  of  the 
neck. 

The  fight  with  the  bear  had  left  the  buffalo  in 
anything  but  a  good  humor  and  the  two  shots  from 
the  young  hunters  only  added  to  his  ugliness.  He 
paused  to  glare  at  the  pair  and  then  made  a  savage 
leap  towards  Henry,  lowering  his  horns  as  he  did  so. 

''Look  out!"  screamed  Dave,  and  Henry  sprang 
to  one  side.  The  movement  was  so  quick  that  he 
could  not  calculate  on  where  he  was  going  and  he 
slipped  into  a  hollow,  his  right  foot  going  down 
between  two  heavy  stones  in  such  a  fashion  that  his 
ankle  was  badly  wrenched. 

The  buffalo  now  turned  upon  Dave  and  he  too 
leaped  away.  With  unloaded  gun  he  could  do  noth- 
ing, and  as  quickly  as  possible  he  started  to  put  in 


A   BUFFALO    AND    A   BEAR  1 7 

a  fresh  charge  and  fix  the  priming.  In  the  mean- 
time the  buffalo  swung  around  once  more,  gave 
Henry  and  the  bear  another  look,  and  then  sprang 
for  the  brushwood  and  was  out  of  sight  in  a 
twinkling. 


CHAPTER  III 

DAVE    AND    THE    INDIAN 

"He  has  gone!" 

"Shoot  him,  Dave,  shoot  him !" 

With  frantic  haste  Dave  fixed  the  priming  of  his 
flint-lock  musket.  But  long  before  the  weapon  was 
ready  for  use  the  buffalo  was  out  of  sight  and 
hearing. 

On  the  ground  in  the  hollow  lay  the  she-bear,  giv- 
ing a  last  convulsive  shudder.  At  the  mouth  of  her 
den  were  the  two  cubs,  whining  plaintively,  as  if 
they  understood  that  something  had  gone  wrong. 
Henry  sat  on  one  of  the  rocks,  with  his  foot  still 
caught  fast  and  a  look  of  pain  on  his  face. 

"What's  the  matter?  Did  the  buffalo  hit  you?" 
called  out  his  cousin,  after  he  had  looked  to  make 
certain  that  the  bear  could  do  no  further  harm. 

"No,  but  I — I  hurt  my  ankle,"  panted  Henry. 
He  gave  his  leg  a  pull.     "Oh  !     But  that  hurts  !" 

"The  bear  is  out  of  it,"  said  Dave.  He  came 
closer.     "Hullo,  your  foot  is  caught.     Let  me  help 

18 


DAVE    AND    THE    INDIAN  I9 

you.  I  reckon  we  have  seen  the  last  of  that  buf- 
falo." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Dave.  We  both  hit 
him,  and  the  bear  gave  him  something  to  remember 
her  by." 

"Poor  beast!  She  certainly  did  what  she  could 
for  her  cubs.     Just  look  at  them  now !" 

It  was  an  affecting  sight.  The  mother  bear  had 
passed  away  and  both  of  the  cubs  had  crawled  forth 
from  the  den  and  were  licking  her  face  and  pushing 
her  form  with  their  little  noses.  Then  both  began 
to  whine  once  more.  Neither  seemed  to  think  of 
running  away. 

Dave  set  down  his  gun  and  helped  Henry  to  release 
his  caught  foot.  Then  they  took  off  the  legging 
and  the  shoe.  The  ankle  had  begun  to  swell  and 
there  was  a  deep  scratch  on  one  side. 

"Can  you  step  on  it?"  asked  Dave,  and  his  cousin 
tried  to  do  so.  He  caught  his  breath  and  gave  a 
gasp. 

"Like  pins  and  needles  going  through  my 
leg!"  he  announced.  "Oh,  what  luck!  And  we 
didn't  get  the  buffalo  after  all !"  he  added,  rue- 
fully. 

The  bear  cubs  now  came  up  and  one  made  a  snap 
at  Dave's  foot  while  the  other  took  up  Henry's  shoe 
and  began  to  chew  it.     Seeing  this,  Dave  drew  his 


20  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

hunting  knife  and  dispatched  them  both.  Then  he 
turned  again  to  his  cousin. 

"I  suppose  it  is  out  of  the  question  for  you  to 
think  of  walking,"  he  said. 

"Not  just  yet,"  answered  Henry.  "Maybe  I'll 
be  able  to  do  it  in  an  hour  or  two." 

"Then  we  may  as  well  rest  right  here.  One  com- 
fort, we  have  the  bear  and  her  cubs  even  if  we  didn't 
get  the  buffalo." 

"Dave,  why  don't  you  follow  the  trail  again? 
That  buffalo  may  not  be  far  off.  It  won't  do  any 
good  for  you  to  sit  down  here  by  me — I  can  take 
care  of  myself.  Only  be  careful  that  the  beast 
doesn't  corner  you." 

"I'll  do  it.  But  I'll  get  you  some  water  first," 
answered  Dave. 

He  had  noted  a  spring  just  before  coming  to  the 
bear  hollow,  and  he  walked  back  to  it  and  procured 
some  water  in  a  gourd  they  carried  for  that  purpose. 
With  this  Henry  started  to  bathe  his  swollen  ankle, 
while  Dave  took  to  the  fresh  trail  the  buffalo  had 
made. 

"Don't  stay  away  more  than  an  hour !"  called  out 
Henry  after  him. 

"Not  unless  it  takes  a  little  longer  to  get  a  good 
chance  at  the  buffalo,"  replied  his  cousin. 

The  buffalo  had  crashed  through  a  long  stretch  of 


DAVE   AND   THE   INDIAN  21 

brushwood  where  the  trail  could  be  followed  with 
ease.  Then  he  had  taken  to  the  old  trail  once  more, 
at  a  point  a  good  half-mile  from  where  he  had  before 
left  it. 

"He  is  bound  for  the  west,  that's  certain,"  said 
Dave  to  himself.  "And  more  than  likely  he  will 
keep  on  until  sundown.  I  may  as  well  give  up  all 
hopes  of  bringing  him  down.  Heigh-ho!  such  are 
the  fortunes  of  hunting!"  And  he  heaved  a  deep 
sigh. 

He  kept  on  for  quarter  of  a  mile  further,  reaching 
a  point  where  the  trail  crossed  a  small  but  clear 
stream  of  spring  water.  Here  the  bison  had  paused 
for  a  drink,  and  resting  his  gun  against  a  tree,  the 
young  hunter  got  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  to 
do  likewise. 

The  water  tasted  so  good  that  Dave  took  his  time 
and  drank  his  fill.  Then  he  raised  his  head,  started 
to  rise,  and  looked  toward  the  tree  where  he  had 
placed  his  weapon. 

The  gun  was  gone ! 

For  the  moment  the  young  hunter  could  not  be- 
lieve the  evidence  of  his  senses.  He  remained  in  a 
crouching  position,  wondering  what  he  had  best  do. 
He  felt  that  an  enemy  must  have  taken  the  gun,  and 
wondered  who  it  could  be.  With  caution  he  looked 
around,  but  not  a  soul  was  in  sight. 


22  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

It  was  a  peculiar  position  to  be  in,  and  small 
wonder  that  the  cold  perspiration  stood  out  upon 
the  young  hunter's  forehead.  He  had  been  in 
peril  before,  among  the  Indians,  and  felt  fairly- 
certain  that  a  red  man  had  gotten  the  better  of 
him. 

What  was  best  to  do?  He  asked  himself  the 
question  several  times,  his  heart  beating  meanwhile 
like  a  trip-hammer  within  his  breast.  An  enemy 
was  surely  at  hand.  What  would  be  the  next  move- 
ment of  the  unknown? 

Cautiously  he  put  his  hand  to  his  side,  drew  his 
hunting  knife,  and  arose  slowly  to  an  upright  posi- 
tion. Overhead  the  branches  of  the  trees  were 
tightly  interlaced,  making  the  spot  rather  gloomy. 
The  stream  came  down  between  a  number  of  rocks 
which  were  backed  up  by  bushes  and  trees.  Would 
it  be  best  to  make  a  dash  for  this  shelter  ? 

"White  boy  drop  knife!" 

The  unexpected  command,  issued  in  a  guttural 
tone,  came  from  a  clump  of  brushwood  behind  Dave. 
The  young  hunter  swung  around,  but  could  see  no 
one. 

"White  boy  drop  knife,  or  Indian  shoot,"  were  the 
next  words  spoken,  and  now  Dave  saw  the  barrel  of 
his  own  gun  pointed  at  his  breast. 

"Who  are  you  ?"  he  asked. 


DAVE   AND   THE   INDIAN  23 

"White  boy  drop  knife,  or  shoot  him  sure!"  was 
the  only  answer,  and  now  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  was 
shoved  a  little  closer  to  the  youth's  breast.  Looking 
through  the  brushwood,  Dave  made  out  the  repulsive 
features  of  a  savage  and  saw  the  wicked  gleam  of 
his  black  eyes. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  help  for  it,  and  the  hunting 
knife  dropped  to  the  ground.  The  Indian  gave  a 
grunt  of  satisfaction  and  then  stepped  into  the  open- 
ing, still,  however,  keeping  the  gun  levelled  at 
Dave's  breast.  He  was  a  brawny  warrior  of  the 
Senecas,  arrayed  in  his  war-paint  and  feathers, 
and  he  carried  a  tomahawk  and  a  knife  in 
his  girdle  and  a  bow  with  arrows  across  his 
shoulders. 

"Where  white  boy  come  from?"  he  asked, 
abruptly. 

"I  came  from  Fort  Pitt,"  answered  Dave.  "Why 
did  you  steal  my  gun  ?" 

At  the  last  question  the  red  man  gave  a  grunt  that 
might  mean  anything.  He  looked  Dave  over  with 
care  and  made  him  back  away,  so  that  he  could  se- 
cure the  lad's  hunting  knife,  which  he  placed  beside 
his  own. 

"White  boy  sodger,  um?"  went  on  the  savage, 
noting  the  tattered  uniform. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  a  soldier,"  answered  Dave.    He 


24  TRAIT,   AND   TRADING   TOST 

continued  to  gaze  at  the  savage.  "I've  seen  you 
before.  Oh,  I  remember  now.  You  were  with 
Moon  Eye,  right  after  I  was  captured.  You  had 
something  to  do  with  the  stealing  of  my  little  cousin 
and  the  twin  boys." 

The  red  man's  eyes  flashed,  but  he  did  not  answer 
to  this.  Evidently  he  was  pondering  upon  what  to 
do  next.  He  had  come  upon  Dave  quite  unex- 
pectedly and  had  taken  the  gun  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment. 

"White  boy  alone?"  he  asked,  after  an  awkward 
pause. 

"No,  I  have  a  good  many  friends  around  here," 
was  Dave's  quick  reply,  but  he  did  not  add  that  the 
majority  of  his  friends  were  at  the  fort. 

At  this  the  face  of  the  warrior  darkened.  He 
allowed  the  gun  barrel  to  drop  and  drew  his  toma- 
hawk. If  others  of  the  whites  were  near  he  thought 
it  might  be  best  to  brain  Dave  on  the  spot,  making  as 
little  noise  as  possible,  and  then  get  away  from  that 
vicinity. 

The  young  hunter  understood  the  movement,  and 
his  heart  leaped  into  his  throat.  He  had  no  desire 
to  feel  the  edge  of  the  savage's  stone  hatchet.  As 
the  gun  barrel  dropped  still  lower  he  thought  of 
the  rocks  and  the  brushwood  and  made  a  spring 
towards  them. 


DAVE   AND   THE   INDIAN  25 

"Pawah!"  cried  the  Indian,  in  a  rage.  "White 
boy  stop!"  And  he  made  a  dash  after  the  youth. 
But  as  luck  would  have  it  one  moccasin  caught  in  a 
trailing  vine  and  he  pitched  headlong.  As  he  went 
down,  the  trigger  of  the  gun  struck  some  brush, 
caught  fast,  and  the  piece  went  off  with  a  loud  re- 
port. 

Dave  imagined  the  gun  was  discharged  at  him- 
self, and  fully  expected  to  feel  the  sting  of  the  bullet, 
perhaps  in  some  vital  portion  of  his  body.  He  felt 
himself  making  a  silent  prayer,  and  as  the  sting  did 
not  come  realized  that  as  yet  he  was  unharmed.  He 
cleared  the  rocks  at  another  bound,  almost  fell  into 
the  bushes,  and  ran  on  and  on  with  all  the  speed  he 
could  command. 

Dave  covered  a  good  quarter  of  a  mile  before  he 
thought  of  coming  to  a  halt.  He  was  now  in  the 
very  depths  of  the  great  forest,  with  a  heavy  growth 
of  timber  on  all  sides  of  him.  The  way  had  been 
rough  and  he  had  stumbled  twice,  scratching  his 
hand  and  his  knee  so  that  they  smarted  greatly. 
He  was  far  away  from  the  buffalo  trail  and  also 
away  from  the  stream  where  he  had  stopped  for  a 
drink.  He  had  made  a  number  of  turns  while  run- 
ning, and  could  not  tell  in  what  direction  he  had  left 
either  the  red  warrior  or  Henry. 

"Here's  a  fine  kettle  of  fish!"  he  muttered,  as  he 


26  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

stopped  to  catch  his  breath.  "Everything  is  going 
wrong  to-day.  First  we  lost  the  buffalo,  then  Henry 
sprained  his  ankle,  and  now  here  am  I,  trying  to  get 
away  from  a  redskin  who  wants  to  take  my  life  and 
who  has  robbed  me  of  my  rifle  and  hunting  knife! 
I  wonder  what  will  happen  next?" 

He  listened  intently,  but  could  hear  nothing  of  his 
red  foe,  nor  could  he  see  anything  to  alarm  him.  It 
was  more  gloomy  than  ever  under  the  trees,  the  sun 
having  gone  under  a  cloud.  The  breeze  sighed 
mournfully  through  the  tallest  branches,  and  only 
the  occasional  note  of  a  bird,  or  the  distant  bark  of 
a  fox,  broke  the  stillness. 

Dave  did  not  dare  to  linger  long  in  one  spot,  fear- 
ing that  the  Indian  might  be  sneaking  over  his  trail 
with  the  slyness  of  a  fox.  He  pushed  forward,  hop- 
ing to  come  to  a  series  of  rocks,  or  a  deep  stream, 
where  the  trail  might  be  hidden. 

His  search  was  at  last  rewarded.  Some  flat  rocks 
appeared,  forming  something  of  a  cliff.  He  walked 
over  these,  taking  care  to  avoid  every  accumulation 
of  dirt  or  trailing  vines.  Then,  coming  to  the  end 
of  the  stones,  he  leaped  down  into  a  gully,  where 
flowed  a  stream  of  water  several  feet  wide  and  more 
than  a  foot  deep.  He  followed  this  stream  a  long 
distance,  until  it  was  lost  among  some  rugged  rocks, 
where  his  further  progress  appeared  to  be  barred. 


DAVE   AND    THE    INDIAN  27 

"There — I  don't  think  that  Indian  can  follow  me 
to  here,"  he  told  himself.  "The  question  is,  How 
am  I  to  get  back  to  Henry  without  being  discovered, 
and  how  are  we  both  to  get  back  to  the  fort?" 


CHAPTER  IV 


TAKEN    BY    SURPRISE 


Dave's  hasty  flight  had  tired  him  out,  and  he  was 
glad  enough  to  sit  down  upon  one  of  the  rocks  and 
rest.  The  cloudiness  in  the  sky  had  continued,  and 
it  looked  as  if  there  might  be  a  shower  before  night- 
fall. 

The  young  hunter  was  in  anything  but  a  cheerful 
frame  of  mind,  and  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to 
have  been  back  at  the  fort  once  more.  He  was 
worried  also  about  his  cousin,  and  trusted  that 
Henry  would  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Indian. 

At  last,  having  gotten  back  his  breath,  he  re- 
solved to  start  off  once  more  and  see  if  he  could  not 
locate  the  spot  where  he  had  left  his  cousin.  He 
walked  through  the  forest  with  extreme  caution, 
often  coming  to  a  halt,  to  survey  the  surroundings 
and  make  sure  that  the  enemy  was  nowhere  near. 

Thus  a  full  hour  more  was  consumed,  and  he  knew 
that  Henry  would  now  be  growing  exceedingly 
anxious  concerning  his  prolonged  absence. 

"I  hope  he  doesn't  try  to  follow  me  up,"  said  Dave 
28 


TAKEN   BY   SURPRISE  29 

to  himself.  "If  he  does  it's  more  than  likely  that 
redskin  will  see  him." 

At  length,  after  moving  in  several  directions,  the 
young  hunter  came  to  a  spot  that  looked  slightly 
familiar  to  him.  He  made  a  circle  of  the  point,  and 
finally  recognized  it  as  the  very  spot  he  had  come 
to  with  White  Buffalo  when  he  and  the  Indian  were 
on  the  way  to  the  fort  with  little  Nell  and  the  twins. 

"Well,  I  never  thought  I'd  see  this  place  again !" 
he  murmured,  half  aloud.  "I  wish  I  had  White 
Buffalo  with  me  now.  I'd  feel  a  heap  safer  than  I 
do." 

He  now  knew  how  to  reach  the  fort,  and  resolved 
to  follow  that  course  until  he  should  come  to  the 
point  where  the  trail  crossed  that  which  he  and 
Henry  had  taken  after  leaving  the  lake  to  go  after 
the  buffalo.  Then  he  would  follow  up  the  buffalo 
trail  to  where  his  cousin  had  been  left. 

He  tramped  on  and  on,  growing  bolder  as  he  saw 
nothing  more  of  his  red  enemy.  It  was  well  past 
noon,  and  he  munched  some  of  the  rations  in  his 
game  bag,  washing  down  the  hasty  meal  with  more 
water  from  a  brook. 

He  was  almost  up  to  the  spot  where  the  fight 
between  the  buffalo  and  the  bear  had  occurred  when 
he  suddenly  heard  the  murmur  of  voices,  conversing 
in  the  Indian  language.     Looking  to  one  side  of  the 


30  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

clearing,  he  made  out  four  Indians,  one  of  whom 
was  the  fellow  who  had  deprived  him  of  his  rifle  and 
hunting  knife. 

The  discovery  came  as  a  shock  to  Dave,  and  once 
again  his  heart  sank  within  him.  He  had  presence 
of  mind  enough  to  leap  behind  some  bushes,  and  a 
moment  later  the  red  men  passed  within  three  yards 
of  him.  Then  he  heard  a  cry  from  the  Indians,  fol- 
lowed by  an  exclamation  from  Henry. 

"They  have  found  him!"  thought  Dave,  and  he 
was  right.  The  four  red  men  came  upon  poor 
Henry  just  as  he  was  putting  on  his  shoe,  prepara- 
tory to  looking  for  his  cousin.  One  leaped  forward, 
pinning  the  young  hunter  to  the  rocks,  and  in  a 
twinkling  the  four  had  made  him  a  prisoner  and  dis- 
armed him. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  demanded  Henry, 
although  he  knew  only  too  well.  "Let  up,  I  say!" 
But  the  Indians  paid  no  attention.  One  carried  a 
length  of  rawhide  and  with  this  they  bound  the 
young  hunter's  hands  behind  him.  Then  his  pockets 
were  searched,  and  they  took  from  him  the  three 
shillings  and  sixpence  he  happened  to  be  carrying. 

After  the  capture,  the  four  Indians  held  a  con- 
sultation among  themselves.  It  was  in  their  native 
tongue,  so  that  Henry  could  understand  next  to 
nothing. 


TAKEN   BY   SURPRISE  3 1 

"White  boy  come  with  Indians,"  said  the  red  man 
who  could  speak  English.  He  had  joined  his 
brother  warriors  after  giving  up  the  chase  after 
Dave. 

At  that  moment  Henry  caught  sight  of  the  extra 
hunting  knife  and  the  rifle  he  knew  only  too  well. 

"Dave's  gun  and  Dave's  knife !"  he  cried.  "What 
have  you  done  with  him?"  he  asked,  with  a  sinking 
heart. 

The  Indian  would  not  answer  this  question,  but 
drew  up  his  eyes  in  a  peculiar  fashion  that  caused 
Henry  to  shiver.  He  concluded  that  Dave  must 
have  been  killed,  although  he  noted  with  just  a  grain 
of  hope  that  none  of  the  warriors  carried  his  cousin's 
scalp. 

Despite  the  fact  that  his  ankle  hurt  him  a  good 
deal,  Henry  was  forced  to  march  along  with  the 
Indians,  who  prodded  him  now  and  then  with  the 
points  of  their  hunting  knives  to  make  him  move 
along  faster.  The  course  was  to  the  northwest,  to  a 
stream  known  to  the  red  men  as  the  Mustalonack, 
where  a  small  band  had  taken  up  their  secret  abode 
since  the  disastrous  battle  of  Bushy  Run. 

After  what  was  to  Henry  a  painful  walk  lasting 
an  hour,  the  Mustalonack  was  reached,  and  from  the 
bushes  along  the  bank  the  Indians  drew  a  long  canoe. 
They  made  Henry  enter  and  then  got  in  themselves 


32  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

and  shoved  off.  The  course  was  up  the  stream,  and 
two  used  the  paddles.  As  the  current  was  rather 
swift,  the  progress  of  the  craft  was  necessarily  slow. 

In  moving  towards  the  river  the  Indians  had  been 
on  the  alert  for  the  possible  appearance  of  white 
hunters  or  English  soldiers.  They  knew  that  to 
stay  in  that  neighborhood  was  dangerous,  and  they 
expected  in  a  few  days  to  move  much  further  to  the 
westward,  perhaps  even  as  far  as  the  Mississippi. 
They  were  awaiting  orders  from  their  chief,  who,  in 
turn,  was  hoping  every  day  to  receive  some  wam- 
pum, or  speech  belt,  from  Pontiac. 

But  though  the  red  warriors  were  on  the  alert, 
their  eyes  were  not  sharp  enough  to  catch  sight  of 
Dave,  as  he  followed  them  at  a  safe  distance.  Al- 
though unarmed,  the  young  hunter  could  not  bear 
to  think  of  leaving  his  cousin  to  his  fate,  and  so  he 
kept  the  party  in  front  in  sight,  hoping  that  sooner 
or  later  he  would  be  able  to  render  Henry  some 
assistance. 

When  the  Indians  set  off  in  the  canoe,  Dave  was 
for  the  moment  nonplussed,  not  knowing  how  to  fol- 
low them.  But  when  he  saw  how  slowly  the  craft 
moved,  he  took  courage,  and  walking  through  the 
forest  along  the  shore,  managed,  although  not  with- 
out an  effort,  to  keep  them  in  sight  until  they  had 
journeyed  as  far  as  they  wished,  when  he  saw  them 


TAKEN   BY   SURPRISE  33 

land  on  the  opposite  shore,  pull  the  long  canoe  into 
the  bushes,  and  hurry  once  more  into  the  forest. 

To  some  faint-hearted  persons  this  might  have 
meant  the  end  of  the  pursuit,  but  Dave  was  made  of 
sterner  stuff,  and  besides  he  loved  his  cousin  too 
dearly  to  give  up  the  hope  of  a  rescue  thus  readily. 
He  saw  that  the  stream  at  this  point  was  rather  shal- 
low, and  without  hesitation  pulled  off  his  shoes  and 
stockings,  rolled  up  his  breeches,  and  waded  in. 

Fording  the  stream  was  not  as  easy  as  it  looked, 
and  more  than  once  Dave  was  in  danger  of  slipping 
down  on  the  loose  rocks  or  of  having  the  current 
carry  him  off  his  feet.  But  he  managed  to  reach  the 
opposite  shore  of  the  stream  in  safety,  and  there, 
donning  his  stockings  and  shoes  again,  hurried  on 
after  the  red  men  as  before. 

Dave  had  not  gone  very  far  when  he  saw  the  un- 
mistakable signs  of  an  Indian  village.  He  slack- 
ened his  pace  and  soon  saw  a  lean  and  hungry- 
looking  Indian  dog  coming  toward  him.  The  canine 
began  to  bark  viciously  and  showed  his  teeth. 

Here  it  was  that  the  young  hunter's  nerve  again 
showed  itself.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
general  worthlessness  of  the  Indian  curs — dogs  that 
were  not  to  be  compared  with  the  hunting  and  watch 
animals  of  the  English — and  picking  up  a  sharp 
stone  he  let  drive,  taking  the  canine  in  the  side.     The 


34  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

dog  gave  a  sharp  yelp,  turned  and  fled,  and  that  was 
the  last  Dave  saw  of  the  animal. 

In  the  meantime  the  Indians  had  arrived  at  their 
temporary  village,  located  in  a  dense  portion  of  the 
forest,  and  consisting  of  nothing  more  than  half  a 
dozen  dirty  shelters  of  blankets  and  skins.  In  the 
center  was  a  small  clearing  where  a  campfire 
smoldered,  and  around  this  lolled  half  a  dozen 
Indians,  while  not  far  off  were  several  squaws  and 
a  dozen  dirty  and  half-clad  Indian  children. 

The  coming  of  the  four  warriors  with  their  captive 
produced  a  mild  sensation,  and  there  was  a  running 
fire  of  questions  and  answers  in  the  native  dialect, 
lasting  some  time.  In  the  meanwhile  two  of  the 
warriors  bound  Henry  to  a  tree  near  the  largest  of 
the  wigwams,  and  left  him,  for  the  time  being,  to 
take  care  of  himself. 

The  head  of  the  tribe,  Moon  Eye,  was  away,  and 
was  not  expected  back  until  the  next  day  at  noon. 
This  being  so,  the  Indians  decided  to  keep  Henry 
where  he  was.  He  was  given  nothing  to  eat,  and 
when  he  asked  for  a  drink  he  was  handed  some 
dirty  water  that  even  a  dog  would  have  refused. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?"  Henry  asked,  of  the 
Indian  who  could  speak  English. 

"White  boy  wait  and  he  shall  see,"  answered  the 
warrior. 


TAKEN   BY   SURPRISE  35 

"Did  you  kill  my  cousin — the  one  who  owns  that 
rifle  and  the  hunting  knife  ?" 

"White  boy  must  not  ask  so  many  questions." 

"If  you  don't  let  me  go  you'll  get  into  trouble," 
went  on  Henry,  thinking  he  might  scare  the  Indians 
into  releasing  him.  "See  how  you  have  already  suf- 
fered. The  English  have  many  soldiers — they  can 
do  the  red  men  great  harm." 

"The  French  have  many  soldiers  also,"  answered 
the  warrior.  "Soon  their  army  will  come  to  the 
aid  of  Pontiac  and  his  followers." 

This  was  a  story  that  had  often  been  told  to  the 
red  men  by  the  French  traders,  and  many  of  the 
Indians  believed  it.  But  they  waited  in  vain  for  help 
from  France,  or  from  Canada.  Instead  of  sending 
help,  the  king  of  France  sold  his  holding  along  the 
Mississippi  to  Spain,  so  that  the  Indians  were  worse 
off  than  ever. 

As  night  came  on  it  began  to  rain  gently,  while  a 
heavy  mist  filled  the  air.  The  Indians  did  not  like 
this  at  all,  and  after  huddling  around  the  campfire 
for  awhile  the  majority  of  them  crawled  into  the 
wigwams  and  went  to  sleep.  Two  of  them  visited 
Henry,  binding  him  more  securely  to  the  tree  than 
ever,  so  that  to  break  or  slip  his  bonds  was  entirely 
out  of  the  question. 

"White  boy  sleep  good,"  said  one  of  them,  as  a 


36  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

joke,  and  then  both  stalked  over  to  the  fire  once 
more.  But  the  rain  and  the  mist  were  not  to  their 
liking  and  presently  they,  too,  retired.  Then  the 
fire  died  down  gradually,  and  the  Indian  village  be- 
came as  quiet  as  a  graveyard. 


CHAPTER  V 
the  flight  to  the  river 

"Henry!" 

"Dave !     How  did  you  manage " 

"Hush!  Don't  make  any  noise,  or  the  Indians 
may  hear  you.  Stand  still  until  I  untie  the  ropes. 
They  took  my  knife  away  from  me." 

No  more  was  said  just  then.  Henry's  heart  gave 
a  great  bound  of  joy.  Dave  was  alive  and  well, 
after  all.  The  discovery  was  almost  too  good  to  be 
true. 

With  dextrous  fingers  Dave  undid  the  rawhide 
which  held  his  cousin  a  prisoner.  Henry  was  so 
stiff  that  he  staggered,  and  Dave  had  to  support  him 
for  the  moment. 

"Come  with  me  to  the  river — we  can  take  to  the 
canoe,"  whispered  Dave  into  his  cousin's  ear.  He 
was  fearful  that  one  of  the  Indians  might  awaken  at 
any  moment  and  stop  their  flight. 

"All  right,  Dave,  but "     Henry  hesitated,  and 

tried  to  look  through  the  darkness  and  the  rain. 
"Are  you  armed?" 

37 


38  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

"No." 

"Neither  am  I — they  took  everything  I  had.  We 
ought  to  try  to  get  at  least  one  rifle  and  a  knife." 

"Yes,  but  the  risk  ?" 

"Is  the  canoe  ready  for  use?" 

"Yes, — all  we  have  to  do  is  to  jump  in  and  shove 
off." 

"Then  keep  still  until  I  take  a  look  around.  At 
the  first  sign  of  an  alarm  make  for  the  canoe  as  tight 
as  you  can." 

Henry's  wrenched  ankle  still  pained  him,  but  in 
the  excitement  of  the  occasion  he  paid  no  attention 
to  the  injury.  With  the  wiliness  of  the  red  war- 
riors he  was  trying  to  outwit,  he  crawled  forward 
in  the  darkness  until  he  was  close  to  one  of  the  wig- 
wams. This  he  knew  held  several  Indians  and  also 
his  own  weapons  and  those  belonging  to  Dave. 

With  bated  breath  the  young  hunter  raised  the 
dirty  flap  to  the  wigwam  and  tried  to  pierce  the 
darkness  inside.  He  could  see  next  to  nothing.  He 
crawled  in  a  little  further,  and  his  hand  came  in 
contact  with  an  Indian's  foot.  He  felt  further,  and 
touched  the  barrel  of  a  gun.  He  raised  the  weapon 
and  drew  it  towards  him.  One  of  the  red  men  gave 
a  deep  sigh  and  a  grunt,  but  did  not  awaken. 

Encouraged  by  his  success  so  far,  Henry  crawled 
forward  again  and  this  time  obtained  the  second 


THE   FLIGHT  TO   THE   RIVER  39 

rifle,  the  powder  horns,  and  also  one  of  the  hunting 
knives.  His  eyes  were  now  becoming  accustomed 
to  the  darkness,  and  finding  a  tomahawk  he  took 
that  too,  and  then  a  bow  and  a  quiver  full  of  arrows. 

At  that  instant  one  of  the  Indians  turned  over, 
muttering  in  his  sleep.  Fearful  that  he  was  awaken- 
ing, the  young  hunter  made  a  hasty  move  toward  the 
wigwam  opening.  He  stepped  on  the  foot  of  a 
sleeping  warrior,  and  the  red  man  sat  up  with  a 
start  and  called  out  in  his  native  tongue,  demanding 
to  know  what  was  the  matter.  Then,  as  he  saw 
Henry  dart  from  the  shelter,  he  gave  a  war-cry  that 
alarmed  the  entire  camp. 

"Lead  the  way  to  the  canoe,  Dave !"  cried  Henry. 
"And  here,  take  one  of  these  rifles.  If  they  press 
us  too  closely,  fire !" 

Dave  took  the  weapon  handed  to  him,  and  side 
by  side  they  rushed  toward  the  river.  Hardly  had 
they  gained  the  shelter  of  the  forest  when  the  red 
warriors  were  in  full  pursuit.  One  caught  up  a  dy- 
ing brand  from  the  fire,  and  swinging  it  in  a  circle 
soon  had  it  burning  brightly  for  a  torch. 

Fortunately  for  the  two  young  hunters,  Dave  had 
noted  the  trail  to  the  river  with  care,  so  that  he  did 
not  get  mixed  up,  even  though  it  was  dark  and  misty. 
But  Henry  could  not  run  very  fast  on  account  of  his 
lame  ankle. 


40  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

"I'm  glad  we  are  to — to  go  by  way  of  the — 
the  river,"  he  gasped.  "I — I  can't  run  much 
further!" 

The  Indians  were  yelling  wildly,  and  one  of  them 
let  fly  an  arrow  which  whizzed  through  the  bushes  at 
their  side.  Dave  caught  his  cousin  by  the  arm,  to 
aid  him,  and  an  instant  later  another  arrow  flew 
directly  between  their  heads. 

"They  must  see  us,  Henry.  Come,  can't  you  run 
just  a  bit  faster?" 

"I'll — I'll  try,"  gasped  Henry,  and  gritted  his 
teeth,  so  great  was  the  pain  in  his  ankle. 

The  forest  now  came  to  an  end,  but  luckily  for 
the  youths  the  river  was  bordered  with  thick  brush- 
wood. Into  this  they  dove,  and  in  half  a  minute 
more  reached  the  point  where  Dave  had  left  the 
canoe  in  readiness  for  immediate  flight. 

"It's  gone!"  cried  the  young  hunter,  in  dismay. 

"The  canoe?"  queried  his  cousin. 

"Yes,  I  left  it  right  here." 

"Then  we  are  lost!" 

Sick  at  heart,  they  caught  each  other  by  the  arm 
and  listened.  The  Indians  were  close  at  hand. 
What  was  to  be  done  ? 

"Let  us  try  to  trick  them !"  whispered  Dave,  and 
caught  up  a  stone  that  was  handy.  He  threw  it  into 
the  water  with  a  splash,  and  then   threw  another 


THE    FLIGHT   TO   THE   RIVER  41 

stone  after  it.  This  accomplished,  he  drew  Henry 
into  the  bushes,  and  both  made  their  way  down  the 
shore  for  a  good  hundred  feet,  walking  in  shallow 
water  to  conceal  the  trail. 

The  mist  over  the  water  was  thicker  than  in  the 
forest,  and  when  the  Indians  came  out  on  the  shore 
they  could  see  little  or  nothing,  even  though  they 
swung  the  torch  in  all  directions. 

"They  leaped  into  the  water, — I  heard  them," 
said  one  warrior,  in  the  Indian  language. 

"I  heard  them  too,"  answered  another.  "They 
must  be  swimming  for  the  other  side." 

"We'll  get  into  the  canoe  and  look  around,"  put 
in  a  third. 

They  ran  to  where  the  long  canoe  had  been  left, 
and  then  uttered  cries  of  anger  at  finding  the  craft 
missing. 

"They  have  taken  the  canoe !" 

"  If  that  is  so  we  cannot  catch  them — the  mist  will 
hide  them  from  view." 

"Moon  Eye  will  be  angry  when  he  finds  his  best 
canoe  gone,"  grumbled  the  Indian  who  could  speak 
English.     "And  my  bow  is  gone  too!" 

The  Indians  continued  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
river  bank,  looking  for  some  trace  of  the  two  whites. 
They  could  not  imagine  who  had  come  to  Henry's 
rescue,  but  thought  it  must  be  somebody  from  Fort 


42  TRAIL    AND    TRADING   POST 

Pitt,  and  were  much  disturbed,  thinking  that  some 
English  soldiers  might  be  in  that  vicinity. 

Meanwhile  Dave  and  Henry  remained  hidden  in 
the  bushes,  close  to  the  water's  edge.  They  caught 
an  occasional  flash  from  the  torch,  but  otherwise  saw 
nothing  of  their  enemies.  The  cooling  water 
seemed  to  soothe  Henry's  ankle  greatly,  for  which 
the  young  hunter  was  grateful. 

"Let  us  go  on  a  little  further,"  whispered  Henry, 
after  a  short  rest,  and  while  the  Indians  were  out  of 
sight  and  hearing.  "The  further  we  get  away,  the 
better." 

Dave  was  more  than  willing,  and  they  moved 
through  the  shallow  water  until  they  reached  a  bend 
in  the  river.     Then  both  gave  a  cry  of  satisfaction : 

"The  canoe!" 

"It  must  have  drifted  to  this  spot,"  said  Dave. 
"See,  the  paddles  are  just  as  I  left  them.  But  I 
thought  the  canoe  was  fast." 

"Get  in  and  be  quick  about  it,"  returned  his 
cousin. 

They  entered  the  craft  and  shoved  out  into  the 
stream.  The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the  mist  was  so 
thick  they  could  scarcely  see  two  yards  in  any  direc- 
tion. Catching  up  the  paddles,  they  guided  the 
canoe  down  the  watercourse  as  best  they  could.  At 
first  they  caught  a   faint  glimpse  of  the  Indians' 


THE   FLIGHT   TO   THE   RIVER  43 

torch,  but  this  was  quickly  swallowed  up  by  the  mist 
and  darkness. 

"I  reckon  we  are  out  of  it,"  said  Dave,  after 
quarter  of  an  hour  had  passed.  "And  I  am  glad  of 
it."     He  heaved  a  long  sigh  of  relief. 

"You  are  not  half  as  glad  as  I  am,"  answered  his 
cousin.  "I  felt  pretty  blue  when  they  had  me  tied  to 
the  tree,  I  can  tell  you!  How  ever  did  you  locate 
me?" 

"It's  a  long  story,"  answered  Dave,  and  then  told 
of  his  meeting  with  the  Indian  who  could  speak 
English,  and  of  what  had  happened  afterward. 

"We  can  certainly  count  ourselves  more  than 
lucky,"  said  Henry.  "In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  those 
redskins  would  have  killed  us  on  the  spot,  and 
scalped  us  in  the  bargain.  They  are  terribly  bitter 
because  Pontiac's  last  conspiracy  failed." 

"I  think  I  know  why  they  let  you  live,  Henry. 
They  wanted  to  learn  how  matters  stood  at  the  fort. 
They'd  make  you  tell  everything,  even  if  they  had  to 
torture  you  into  doing  it." 

"I  reckon  you  are  right  on  that  point." 

Feeling  themselves  safe  for  the  time  being,  the 
two  young  hunters  stopped  paddling  and  tried  to 
gaze  around  them.  Nothing  could  be  seen  but  the 
mist  and  water,  the  latter  rushing  along  with  in- 
creased swiftness. 


44  TRATL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"Did  they  have  another  canoe?"  asked  Henry, 
presently. 

"I  couldn't  find  any,  and  I  looked  pretty  care- 
fully." 

"In  that  case,  they  won't  be  able  to  follow  us  very 
readily." 

"They  won't  know  where  to  look  for  us,  in  this 
darkness,  Henry.  The  question  is,  Where  are  we 
going?     I  know  nothing  of  this  river,  do  you?" 

"I  do  not,  but  I  imagine  it  flows  into  the  Alle- 
gheny or  the  Ohio." 

"If  it  will  take  us  to  the  fort,  that  is  just  where 
we  want  to  go." 

They  talked  the  matter  over,  and  decided  to  keep 
on  the  river  at  least  for  a  few  miles  further.  Then 
they  would  go  ashore,  make  themselves  as  comfort- 
able as  possible,  and  wait  for  daylight  to  appear. 

"If  the  sun  comes  out  we  can  climb  a  tall  tree  and 
get  the  lay  of  the  land,"  said  Dave.  "Or,  I  can 
climb  it  alone,  since  your  ankle  is  hurt.  How  does  it 
feel  now?" 

"No  worse,"  answered  his  cousin.  "I  think  if  I 
can  keep  off  it  for  a  few  hours  it  will  be  all  right 
again.     But  it  was  a  pretty  bad  twist." 

"Do  you  notice  that  the  river  seems  to  be  growing 
narrower?"  said  Dave,  after  a  short  spell  of  silence. 

"I  have  been  wondering  if  we  are  not  on  some 


THE   FLIGHT   TO   THE   RIVER  45 

branch,"  was  the  reply.  "Anyway,  it  is  flowing 
much  swifter  than  before." 

"Maybe  we  had  better  turn  into  shore  now." 

"I  think  so  myself.  We  don't  want  to  run  into 
anything." 

They  started  to  turn  the  canoe  around.  To  their 
surprise  the  water  began  to  boil  and  foam  on  all  sides 
of  them.  Then  came  a  grating  sound  from  the 
bottom. 

"We  just  ran  over  a  rock !"  cried  Dave.  "Henry, 
this  is  getting  dangerous !" 

"I  think  so  myself,  Dave.  Come,  we  will  make 
for  the  shore  over  yonder.     Perhaps Oh !" 

Henry's  remarks  came  to  a  sudden  ending,  as  the 
canoe  swept  swiftly  under  the  low-hanging  branch  of 
a  big  tree.  The  young  hunter  was  standing  up  at 
the  time,  and  he  was  carried  overboard  in  a  flash, 
paddle  in  hand.  Then  the  canoe  struck  a  rock,  slid 
up  along  some  tree-roots,  and  began  to  fill  with 
water ! 


CHAPTER  VI 

BACK    TO    THE    FORT 

Henry  was  so  taken  by  surprise  that  it  was  not 
until  he  found  himself  over  his  head  in  the  river 
he  realized  what  had  occurred.  His  shoulder 
struck  a  rock,  but  the  blow  was  of  small  moment. 
He  came  up,  spluttering  and  still  holding  the 
paddle. 

"Whe — where  are  you,  Dave  ?"  was  his  first  ques- 
tion, as  he  dashed  the  water  from  his  eyes. 

There  was  no  answer,  and  in  the  mist  and  dark- 
ness he  could  see  nothing.  He  struck  out,  and  soon 
reached  a  spot  where  he  could  stand  on  the  rocky 
bottom  of  the  watercourse.  He  was  under  some 
tree-limbs,  and  knew  that  the  shore  must  be  close  at 
hand. 

"I  say,  Dave!"  he  called  again.     "Dave!" 

"Henry !"  was  the  feeble  reply. 

The  voice  was  sufficient  for  Henry  to  locate  the 
canoe,  and  he  hastened  toward  it.  Feeling  around 
in  the  utter  darkness  he  caught  hold  of  his  cousin's 
knee  and  then  his  arm. 

46 


BACK  TO   THE   FORT  47 

"What's  the  matter  ?     Are  you  hurt  ?" 

"I — I  don't  know,''  faltered  Dave.  "A  tree-limb 
struck  me  on  the  head."  He  put  up  his  hand. 
"Phew!  I've  got  a  lump  on  my  forehead  like  a 
walnut !" 

Henry  could  feel  that  the  canoe  was  filling  with 
water,  and  so  lifted  up  the  guns  and  the  powder  and 
bullet  horns.  Dave  was  slowly  recovering  from  the 
shock  received.  Both  stood  up  and  leaned  against 
a  thick  limb  above  the  canoe. 

"Let  us  follow  the  limb  to  shore,"  said  Henry, 
and  this  was  done,  they  taking  everything  that  had 
been  in  the  canoe  with  them. 

Among  the  jagged  rocks  the  water  swirled 
swiftly,  and  they  had  to  pick  their  way  with  care. 
Close  to  the  tree-trunk  was  a  deep  hole,  and  they 
had  to  circle  this.  At  last  they  stood  on  the  shore, 
where  the  rocks  were  backed  up  by  brushwood  and 
tall  timber. 

"I  fancy  the  canoe  is  done  for,"  announced  Dave. 
"It  went  up  on  those  rocks  good  and  hard." 

"Well,  let  us  be  thankful  that  it  carried  us  as  far 
as  it  did,"  answered  Henry,  trying  to  be  cheerful. 
"We  must  be  four  or  five  miles  from  that  Indian 
camp." 

"You  are  wet  to  the  skin,  Henry.  You'll  have  to 
dry  your  clothes  or  you'll  take  cold." 


48  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"I'll  wring  them  out  and  make  that  do,  Dave. 
We  won't  dare  to  light  a  campfire." 

"Not  if  we  can  find  a  hollow  ?  The  mist  will  hide 
a  good  deal,  remember." 

"Well,  we'll  see  about  it." 

Henry  did  not  relish  remaining  in  the  wet  and 
darkness  any  more  than  did  his  cousin,  and  both 
searched  around  until  they  found  a  spot  with  high 
rocks  on  two  sides  and  a  thick  group  of  trees  op- 
posite. To  get  some  dry  wood  was  the  next  task,  and 
then  came  the  problem  of  starting  the  blaze.  But 
this  was  solved  by  Henry,  who  poured  some  loose 
powder  on  a  dry  rock,  mixed  it  with  some  tinder, 
and  then  hammered  the  rock  with  the  ramrod  of  his 
gun.  Soon  came  a  flash  and  a  hiss,  and  the  tinder 
glowed,  and  presently  the  fire  flared  up  pleasantly 
enough.  Around  it  they  piled  some  flat  stones, 
shutting  in  the  light  as  much  as  possible. 

"Do  you  think  we  ought  to  pull  in  the  canoe?" 
asked  Dave.  "The  Indians  may  come  along  and 
see  it." 

"It  wouldn't  be  a  bad  plan,"  answered  Henry. 

They  soon  had  the  battered  craft  out  of  the  river. 
They  turned  it  upside  down,  resting  each  end  on  a 
rock,  and  thus  it  formed  for  them  something  of  a 
shelter  in  front  of  the  fire. 

With  the  brightness  of  the  blaze,  matters  appeared 


BACK   TO   THE   FORT  49 

to  take  on  a  more  cheerful  turn.  Henry  took  off 
the  most  of  his  garments  and  dried  them,  and  Dave 
did  likewise,  and  the  former  also  cared  for  his  hurt 
ankle.  The  youths  calculated  that  it  was  about  mid- 
night. They  did  not  know  where  they  were,  nor 
what  new  dangers  might  confront  them.  Each 
looked  to  his  firearm,  to  see  that  it  could  be  used  if 
necessary,  and  one  kept  the  hunting  knife  and  the 
other  the  tomahawk  in  readiness. 

"I  think  we  had  better  take  turns  watching,"  said 
Henry.     "There  is  no  use  in  both  keeping  awake." 

He  took  the  first  vigil,  allowing  Dave  to  sleep 
until  about  three  o'clock.  Then  he  turned  in  for  a 
solid  sleep  lasting  several  hours. 

In  the  morning  the  mist  and  the  rain  cleared  away. 
The  day,  however,  was  still  gloomy,  and  although 
Dave  climbed  one  of  the  tall  trees  at  hand,  he  could 
see  little  or  nothing  by  which  to  locate  himself. 

"I  think  the  fort  is  in  that  direction,"  he  said, 
pointing  with  his  hand.  "But  I  am  by  no  means 
sure." 

"Well,  we  may  as  well  journey  in  that  direction 
as  any  other,"  was  Henry's  reply.  "I  think  you  are 
right.  The  canoe  is  not  fit  for  use,  so  we  cannot  go 
down  the  river,  and  may  as  well  throw  the  paddles 
away  or  burn  them  up." 

At  early  dawn  Dave  had  discovered  a  squirrel  on 


50  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

a  branch  near  by,  and  laid  the  game  low  with  an 
arrow.  This  had  made  him  do  a  little  hunting  with 
the  bow,  and  he  had  ended  by  obtaining  four  squir- 
rels. These,  broiled  over  the  fire,  gave  them  a  good 
breakfast,  washed  down  as  it  was  by  a  drink  from 
the  river.  They  looked  up  the  watercourse  as  far 
as  they  could,  but  saw  no  signs  of  the  Indians. 

They  were  soon  on  the  tramp.  Knowing  that 
Henry's  ankle  must  still  pain  him,  Dave  let  his  cousin 
set  the  pace.  This  was  somewhat  slow  for  the 
frontier  youths,  but  would  have  proved  stiff  walk- 
ing for  anybody  not  used  to  it.  The  route  was 
comparatively  easy  to  travel,  and  by  high  noon, 
when  they  sat  down  to  rest,  they  calculated  that 
they  had  covered  at  least  eight  miles. 

"The  sun  is  breaking  through  the  clouds,  and  I 
am  going  to  take  another  look  around,"  said  Dave, 
and  this  time  Henry  climbed  a  tree  with  him.  A 
grand  panorama  of  woods,  hills,  and  waters  was 
spread  around  them,  and  at  a  distance  they  saw 
where  Fort  Pitt  was  located,  at  the  junction  of  the 
Allegheny  and  Monongahela  rivers. 

"There  is  the  fort!"  cried  Dave,  light-heartedly. 
"Henry  we  are  almost  on  the  direct  road !" 

"And  not  an  Indian  in  sight,  so  far  as  I  can  see," 
was  the  answer,  as  Henry's  trained  eye  moved 
slowly  from  one  direction  to  another. 


BACK  TO   THE   FORT  5 1 

"Let  us  go  on  again.  I  want  to  get  back  before 
night — if  it  can  be  done.  But,  of  course,  you'll  have 
to  set  the  pace,"  added  Dave,  considerately. 

As  they  journeyed  along  they  talked  over  the 
situation,  and  wondered  if  the  Indians  had  taken 
possession  of  the  dead  bear  and  her  cubs. 

"I  don't  think  they  took  the  whole  bear,"  said 
Henry.  "Maybe  they  took  the  hide  and  the  choicest 
of  the  meat." 

"I  didn't  dare  to  watch  them  too  closely,  for  fear 
of  being  caught,"  said  Dave. 

They  took  an  almost  direct  course  for  the  fort, 
and  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  calculated  that 
they  were  but  two  or  three  miles  away.  Nothing 
had  come  to  alarm  them  outside  of  the  appearance 
of  a  rattlesnake  that  glided  from  under  a  rock  over 
which  they  were  stepping.  They  lost  no  time  in 
giving  the  reptile  a  wide  berth,  and  on  his  part  the 
rattlesnake  did  not  attempt  to  molest  them. 

"I  think  we'll  reach  Fort  Pitt  by  sundown,"  said 
Henry.  "We  might  do  it  in  less  time,  but  there  is 
no  use  in  hurrying." 

"Does  the  ankle  still  hurt?" 

"It  doesn't  hurt  very  much,  but  it  feels  weak.  I 
think  I'll  rest  all  day  to-morrow." 

"We'll  have  earned  a  rest,  I'm  thinking,"  returned 
Dave,  with  a  grim  smile.     "Won't  they  open  their 


52  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

eyes  at  the  fort  when  they  hear  the  story  we  have 
to  tell !" 

Another  mile  was  covered,  and  they  had  to  pass 
around  a  hollow  filled  with  thick  brushwood.  Henry 
was  in  advance,  when  he  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 

"Here  is  our  chance,  Dave!"  he  whispered.  "We 
won't  have  to  go  back  empty-handed." 

Dave  pressed  to  the  front  and  took  a  look  ahead. 
There,  among  the  bushes,  was  a  beautiful  doe  with  a 
fair-sized  fawn  beside  her. 

"Good !"  whispered  Dave,  raising  his  rifle.  "The 
best  kind  of  deer  meat.  Which  will  you  take, 
Henry?" 

"I'll  take  the  doe." 

"All  right,  I'll  take  the  fawn.  It's  a  pity  to  kill 
such  a  beautiful  creature,  but  it  can't  be  helped. 
We  need  the  meat." 

Both  moved  a  little  closer,  to  a  spot  where  they 
could  get  a  better  chance  at  the  doe  and  her  fawn. 
Just  as  they  raised  their  rifles  the  mother  deer  looked 
up  and  gave  a  sniff.  The  fawn  followed,  and  both 
started  to  bound  away. 

Bang!  bang!  Both  guns  rang  out  in  quick 
succession.  The  fawn  fell  in  a  heap  in  the  bushes 
and  lay  still.  The  doe  struggled  on,  mortally 
wounded  in  the  breast.  But  hardly  had  she  gone 
ten  feet,  with  Henry  and  Dave  after  her,  than  an  old 


BACK  TO   THE   FORT  53 

frontiersman  stepped  from  behind  a  tree,  ran  up, 
and  plunged  a  hunting  knife  into  her  throat,  bring- 
ing her  career  to  an  end. 

"Sam  Barringford !"  cried  Dave  and  Henry  in  a 
breath. 

"Right  ye  air,  boys,"  answered  the  old  frontiers- 
man. "I  wasn't  quite  quick  enough  fer  ye, 
was  I?  Thought  as  how  thet  meat  war  mine  fer 
sartin." 

"Were  you  after  the  doe  and  her  fawn?"  asked 
Henry. 

"Yes — been  a-followin'  'em  fer  the  last  hour. 
They  war  in  sight  o'  the  fort,  an'  I  thought  I'd  add 
to  the  provender  by  bringin'  'em  low." 

"Well,  you've  had  your  hand  in  the  killing,"  said 
Dave.  He  examined  the  fawn.  "There's  meat  fit 
for  the  table  of  a  king." 

"Yes,  and  I  wish  mother  had  it,"  added  Henry. 

Sam  Barringford  was  alone  and  carried  only  his 
long  rifle,  his  horn  of  powder  and  ball,  and  his  hunt- 
ing knife.  As  of  old  he  was  attired  in  a  hunting 
shirt,  with  leggings,  and  wore  his  coonskin  cap, 
with  the  tail  trailing  behind.  He  was  surprised  to 
learn  that  they  had  no  game  with  them,  but  still 
more  surprised  when  he  heard  the  tale  they  had  to 
tell. 

"We'll  want  to  git  back  to  the  fort  without  delay," 


54  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

he  said.  "The  commandant  there  must  know  about 
this." 

The  doe  was  hung  on  a  long  pole,  and  Dave  and 
Henry  carried  the  game  between  them.  The  fawn 
Sam  Barringford  slung  across  the  back  of  his  neck, 
with  the  front  hoofs  in  one  hand  and  the  rear  hoofs 
in  the  other.  Thus  they  walked  as  swiftly  as  possi- 
ble to  the  fort,  where  their  coming  was  noted  from 
a  distance. 

"Not  so  bad,"  said  James  Morris,  as  he  eyed  the 
game.     "But  you  have  made  a  long  stay  of  it." 

"Yes,  and  we  might  have  had  a  bear,  two  cubs, 
and  a  buffalo  had  it  not  been  for  the  Indians,"  re- 
plied Dave. 

"The  Indians !"  burst  out  his  parent.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  you  ran  into  the  Indians  again?" 

"We  certainly  did, — and  I  have  been  a  prisoner, 
too,"  said  Henry.  "I  might  be  a  prisoner  yet  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Dave." 

"Well,  this  is  certainly  news,"  said  Rodney.  "I 
thought  all  the  Indians  had  cleared  out." 

"I  said  all  along  they'd  be  skulkin'  around,"  said 
Sam  Barringford.  "Don't  ye  remember  as  how  I 
warned  ye  to  keep  your  eyes  peeled  ?  Some  o'  them 
redskins  ain't  a  goin'  to  git  out  until  they  actually 
have  to,  mark  me!" 

The  news  that  Dave  and  Henry  had  encountered 


BACK   TO   THE   FORT  55 

the  Indians  quickly  spread,  and  Captain  Ecuyer,  who 
was  in  charge  of  the  stronghold,  sent  for  them,  that 
he  might  learn  the  details.  They  knew  the  captain 
well,  and  readily  told  him  all. 

"I  shall  have  to  look  into  this,"  said  the  com- 
mandant of  Fort  Pitt.  "The  Indians  must  be 
cleared  out  of  this  district  entirely." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    START    FOR    THE    EAST 

The  news  that  the  Indians  were  still  in  that  vicin- 
ity alarmed  James  Morris  exceedingly,  and  he  shook 
his  head  sadly  when  he  remembered  that  it  had  been 
arranged  for  Rodney  to  start  for  the  east  with  little 
Nell  and  the  twins  on  the  following  Monday. 

"I  hardly  think  it  will  be  safe,"  said  he,  to  Rodney. 
"I  should  not  wish  anything  to  happen  to  you  and 
the  others." 

"There  are  six  men  to  go  along,  besides  Sam 
Barringford,"  answered  the  young  soldier  who  had 
fought  so  bravely  at  the  battle  of  Bushy  Run. 
"There  can  be  only  small  bodies  of  Indians  around, 
and  they  will  not  dare  to  attack  us  if  we  keep  a 
good  watch." 

"The  Indians  may  unite  for  an  attack,"  said  Mr. 
Morris.  "Better  wait  until  we  are  certain  the  way 
is  clear."  And  so  the  start  for  the  Morris  home- 
stead was  delayed. 

Dave  and  Henry  had  returned  to  Fort  Pitt  on 
Friday    night,    and     Saturday    morning    Captain 

56 


THE    START   FOR   THE    EAST  57 

Ecuyer  sent  out  a  body  of  fifty  regulars  and  six 
frontiersmen,  to  scour  the  vicinity  for  Indians. 
With  the  number  went  Sam  Barringford  and  an- 
other old  hunter,  Tony  Jadvvin,  both  of  whom  knew 
that  territory  well.  Jadwin  had  been  Mr.  Morris's 
right-hand  man  at  the  trading  post,  and  was  counted 
an  Indian  trailer  of  extraordinary  ability. 

"I'd  like  to  go  with  them  myself,"  said  Dave,  but 
his  father  demurred.  Henry  was  glad  enough  to 
give  his  ankle  a  rest,  and  Rodney  thought  he  had 
better  reserve  his  strength  for  the  trip  eastward. 

"Oh,  Henry,  please  don't  go  out  among  the 
Indians  again!"  cried  little  Nell,  to  her  brother. 
"And  don't  you  go  either,  Cousin  Dave,"  she  added. 

"We  are  not  going  just  yet,"  said  Henry,  giving 
his  sister  a  kiss. 

"Oh,  I  hate  the  Indians  so!"  went  on  the  miss, 
with  a  stamp  of  her  foot. 

"Not  all  Indians,"  replied  Dave,  with  a  smile. 
"Don't  forget  White  Buffalo." 

"Oh,  he  is  only  an  Indian  in  looks,"  answered 
Nell.  "He  has  a  white  man's  heart — Uncle  Sam 
told  me  so." 

"By  the  way,  where  is  White  Buffalo?"  asked 
Henry. 

"He  has  gone  to  visit  his  tribe,"  answered  Rod- 
ney.    "He  thinks  the  different  factions  will  unite 


58  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

now  and  sue  for  peace.  Sir  William  Johnson  is 
going  to  give  them  all  a  chance  to  bury  the  hatchet, 
and  White  Buffalo  thinks  it  is  a  grand  chance  for 
his  tribe  to  unite  once  more  and  live  in  peace." 

What  Rodney  said  about  Sir  William  Johnson 
was  true.  The  Indian  Superintendent  had  sent 
agents  to  all  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Six  Nations,  and 
also  to  the  chiefs  of  the  tribes  along  the  St.  Lawrence 
and  in  Canada.  The  Indians  were  to  meet  the 
Superintendent  at  Johnson  Hall  in  central  New 
York  State.  Many  came  to  the  conference,  which 
began  early  in  September  and  was  productive  of 
some  good,  although  not  a  great  deal.  The  Iroquois 
were  induced  to  send  messages  to  other  tribes  in 
the  west,  urging  them  to  bury  the  hatchet,  and  they 
also  sent  word  to  the  Delawares  telling  them  not  to 
listen  to  the  western  tribes  that  desired  to  plunge 
them  into  further  bloodshed.  The  Senecas  would 
not  come  to  the  conference,  and  they  continued  to 
kill  and  plunder  whenever  the  opportunity  presented 
itself,  and  the  tribes  from  along  the  Mississippi  did 
likewise.  White  Buffalo's  tribe  of  Delawares  con- 
tinued to  remain  split,  much  to  the  old  chief's  sor- 
row, one  part  aiding  the  English,  and  another  part 
aiding  the  Indians,  and  the  French  who  still  held 
certain  trading  posts  and  refused  to  give  them 
up. 


THE   START   FOR   THE   EAST  59 

The  regulars  and  frontiersmen  to  sally  forth  from 
Fort  Pitt  after  the  enemy,  were  gone  four  days. 
When  they  returned  they  announced  that  practically 
all  the  red  men  had  departed  either  for  the  north  or 
the  west.  They  had  encountered  one  band  of  fleeing 
men  under  Moon  Eye  and  had  slain  two  of  the 
Indians.  One  regular  had  been  shot  in  the  arm, 
a  wound  that  was  painful  but  not  serious.  They 
had  come  upon  the  torn  carcass  of  the  bear,  which 
the  wolves  had  used  for  a  feast  after  the  Indians  had 
cut  away  the  hide  and  some  choice  steaks,  and  had 
found  the  torn  body  of  one  cub.  Sam  Barringford 
had  also  gotten  a  long-distance  shot  at  a  buffalo, 
probably  the  one  followed  by  Dave,  but  the  animal 
had  gotten  away  from  him. 

"I  think  we  can  make  the  trip  eastward  in  safety 
now,"  said  Rodney,  to  his  uncle.  "Evidently  the 
redskins  are  pretty  badly  scared.  It  may  be  safer 
to  make  it  now  than  later  on.  Besides,  we  don't 
want  to  wait  till  winter  is  on  us." 

The  matter  was  talked  over  at  great  length,  and 
finally  it  was  decided  that  the  start  for  the  east 
should  be  made  at  the  end  of  a  week.  Rodney  and 
Barringford  were  to  go,  taking  with  them  Nell  and 
the  twins.  A  settler  named  Dobson  was  also  going, 
along  with  his  wife,  who  promised  to  keep  an  eye  on 
Nell,  Tom,  and  Artie.     The  escort  was  to  be  com- 


60  TRAIT,   AND   TRADING   POST 

posed  of  five  frontiersmen,  and  ten  regular  soldiers 
who  had  received  their  discharge  from  the  service, 
and  who  were  anxious  to  get  back  to  Annapolis, 
where  they  belonged.  The  party  were  to  take  with 
them  six  pack-horses,  all  belonging  to  Mr.  Morris. 

This  plan  of  departing  for  the  east  put  Rodney  in 
better  spirits,  for  he  wanted  to  see  home  again, 
not  being  used  to  being  away,  as  were  Dave  and 
Henry.  Everything  was  gotten  in  readiness  and 
long  letters  were  written  by  those  left  at  the  fort. 
In  his  letter  to  his  brother,  James  Morris  stated  that 
he  intended  to  go  back  to  his  trading  post  on  the 
Ohio  as  soon  as  it  seemed  fairly  safe  to  do  so.  and 
that,  as  agreed  upon  before,  he  would  take  Dave  and 
Henry  with  him. 

"Good-bye,  Rodney,"  said  Dave,  when  it  came 
time  to  part.  "Take  good  care  of  yourself,  and 
good  care  of  Nell  and  the  twins." 

"And  you  take  care  of  yourself."  answered  the 
former  cripple.  "Don't  start  for  the  trading  post 
until  it  is  perfectly  safe." 

When  the  actual  parting  came  Nell's  eyes  were 
full  of  tears  and  she  kissed  her  brother  Henry,  Uncle 
James,  and  Cousin  Dave  over  and  over  again.  Even 
the  twins  hated  to  leave  the  fort,  where  they  had 
been  general  favorites  since  their  arrival. 

"Tom  wants  to  stay  by  the  soldiers,"  said  one. 


THE   START   FOR   THE   EAST  6 1 

"Artie  wants  to  stay  by  the  soldiers,  too,  and  by 
Dave !"  cried  the  other. 

They  were  sturdy  little  chaps,  the  picture  of 
health,  and  Dave  and  Henry  could  not  resist  giving 
each  a  toss  and  a  hug. 

When  the  little  expedition  started  Dave,  Henry, 
and  Mr.  Morris  accompanied  them  for  several  miles 
of  the  journey.  Then  all  reached  the  top  of  a  hill, 
and  here  those  to  remain  at  the  fort  halted.  The 
others  went  on  and  presently  a  bend  in  the  road  hid 
them  from  view. 

"I  pray  to  heaven  that  they  have  a  safe  journey 
home,"  said  James  Morris,  with  much  feeling. 

As  my  old  readers  know,  there  were  two  roads 
running  between  Fort  Pitt  and  the  east — one  the  old 
trail  used  by  General  Braddock  on  his  disastrous 
campaign  and  the  other  used  by  General  Forbes  on 
his  march  to  victory.  The  Braddock  road  was  now 
but  little  used,  and  Rodney  and  his  friends  took  to 
the  other,  as  being  perhaps  safer  and  easier. 

The  advance  was  in  regular  order,  half  of  the 
frontiersmen  and  regulars  going  ahead  and  the 
others  keeping  to  the  rear.  In  the  center  came  the 
pack-horses,  with  Rodney  and  Dobson  in  charge. 
With  Mrs.  Dobson  were  Nell  and  the  twins,  who 
walked  or  rode,  as  suited  them. 

In  these  days  of  fast  trains,  trolley  cars,  and  auto- 


62  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

mobiles  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  what  such  a  journey 
as  this  before  the  colonists  meant.  Instead  of  cover- 
ing thirty  to  sixty  miles  an  hour  they  were  content 
to  cover  ten  to  twenty  miles  between  sunrise  and 
sunset.  The  road  lay  over  the  hills  and  through  the 
mountains,  with  mighty  forests  on  all  sides,  where 
the  ring  of  the  woodsman's  axe  had  scarcely  been 
heard.  Great  rivers  were  to  be  crossed,  and  if  the 
bridge  was  down  or  out  of  repair  they  had  to  find 
another  place  to  cross  or  else  stop  to  mend  the  struc- 
ture. Where  the  road  lay  along  a  mountain  side 
the  rain  would  sometimes  cover  it  with  mud  and 
stones  to  a  depth  of  a  foot  or  more,  making  the 
advance  extra  laborious.  Here  and  there  the  wind 
had  blown  a  tree  down  over  their  path,  and  then  they 
would  have  to  either  work  their  way  around  it,  or 
else  cut  through  or  over  it.  In  some  spots  the  tree- 
branches  were  so  low  the  horses  could  scarcely  get 
under  them,  and  here  all  the  travelers  would  have 
to  advance  on  foot,  and  see  to  it  that  none  of  the 
packs  were  lost.  Once  a  pack  caught  on  a  sharp 
bough  and  tore  open,  scattering  the  contents  in  all 
directions. 

"Won't  catch  me  coming  out  here  again," 
grumbled  Asa  Dobson.  "Folks  out  Baltimore  way 
said  I  could  make  my  fortune  in  them  western  coun- 
tries, but  I  don't  see  it.     Them  Injuns  nearly  killed 


THE   START   FOR   THE   EAST  63 

me  and  my  wife  twict,  and  they  stole  my  hoss,  and 
I'm  going  to  stay  in  the  east  after  this,  and  work  for 
my  old  master,  the  Earl  of  Chester.  The  Injuns 
can  have  them  western  countries  for  all  o'  me !" 

"Don't  you  want  to  be  your  own  master  and  own 
your  own  plantation?"  asked  Rodney. 

"No,  not  if  I've  got  to  fight  Injuns  to  keep  it," 
answered  Dobson.  He  was  used  to  life  around  the 
larger  towns,  and  the  loneliness  of  the  wilderness 
struck  him  with  a  peculiar  terror. 

However  the  journey  had  its  bright  spots.  The 
men  in  advance  always  secured  plenty  of  game — 
deer,  rabbits,  squirrels,  wild  turkeys,  and  partridges 
— and  the  children  often  stopped  to  pick  the  wild 
flowers  which  still  bloomed  along  the  roadside.  At 
nightfall  they  would  go  into  camp  beside  some  brook 
or  spring  of  pure  mountain  water,  and  there  would 
gather  around  a  generous  campfire,  to  eat  the  main 
meal  of  the  day  and  make  themselves  at  home.  Dur- 
ing the  evening  hours  Sam  Barringford  would  tell 
the  children  wonderful  stories  of  hunting,  or  of  his 
army  adventures  while  out  with  Dave  and  Henry, — 
tales  which  they  listened  to  with  much  interest. 

"Tom  is  going  to  be  a  soldier  when  he  grows  up," 
said  one  of  the  little  boys. 

"Artie  is  going  to  be  a  soldier  too,  and  have  a 
beautiful  uniform,"  put  in  the  other  promptly.    They 


64  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

spoke  thus  in  childish  fashion,  little  dreaming  of  the 
days  to  come  when  they  would  both  shoulder  their 
muskets  in  the  War  for  Independence. 

So  far  they  had  met  nobody  on  the  road.  When 
Sunday  came  they  spent  the  day  in  a  much-needed 
rest.  Nell  repeated  to  Rodney  some  Bible  verses 
and  tried  to  teach  them  to  the  twins. 

On  Monday  afternoon  those  in  advance  saw  a 
pack-train  approaching,  composed  of  eight  horses 
and  one  cart,  and  in  charge  of  six  frontiersmen  and 
a  trader  named  Packerson. 

"Where  bound,  Packerson?"  asked  Sam  Barring- 
ford. 

"Fort  Pitt,"  was  the  short  reply.  Packerson  was 
a  rather  silent  man,  of  few  words. 

"Come  straight  through  from  Cumberland?" 

"Yes." 

"See  any  Injuns?" 

"Seven.  Had  a  fight  with  'em  too,"  answered  the 
trader.  Then  his  train  came  to  a  halt,  and  the 
others  at  once  surrounded  him  for  particulars  of  the 
encounter. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    MASSACRE    OF    A    PACK-TRAIN 

Jed  Packerson's  story  was  soon  told.  His  party 
had  first  seen  the  Indians  while  crossing  a  high  hill 
where  a  landslide  had  carried  down  many  trees  of 
the  forest  to  the  valley  below.  As  soon  as  dis- 
covered the  red  men  had  run  for  shelter.  Half  an 
hour  later  one  of  the  frontiersmen  had  given  the 
alarm,  and  the  next  moment  a  shower  of  arrows  had 
fallen  around  them,  hitting  one  man  in  the  shoulder. 
Then  two  guns  had  been  discharged  and  a  horse  had 
been  hit  in  the  thigh  and  had  stampeded.  The 
whites  had  returned  the  fire  of  the  Indians,  who, 
however,  had  kept  under  cover.  At  least  one  red 
warrior  had  been  wounded,  and  then  the  whole  party 
had  taken  themselves  to  parts  unknown.  The  horse 
to  run  away  was  still  missing  and  Packerson  had 
decided  to  let  him  go  rather  than  lose  time  on  a  trail 
that  appeared  so  dangerous. 

The  fight  had  occurred  two  days  before,  and  the 
spot  where  the  Indians  had  opened  fire  was  less  than 
sixteen  miles  away.     This  was  disturbing  news  to 

65 


66  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

Rodney  and  his  friends,  and  after  Packerson  had 
continued  on  his  way  a  council  of  war  was 
held. 

"We'll  have  to  be  on  our  guard  night  an'  day," 
said  Sam  Barringford.  "The  advance  guard  will 
have  to  spread  out  purty  well  an  beat  the  brush 
thoroughly.  At  the  first  sign  o'  danger,  whistle  or 
fire  a  gun  and  then  come  to  the  center." 

The  old  frontiersman  had  been  selected  as  a 
leader,  and  the  others  agreed  to  follow  his  advice. 
The  bordermen  and  the  regulars  spread  out  into  a 
regular  circle  around  the  pack-horses  and  those  with 
the  steeds,  and  Mrs.  Dobson  and  the  children  were 
cautioned  not  to  wander  off  by  the  roadside  under 
any  circumstances. 

That  evening  the  party  encamped  by  the  side  of  a 
stream  at  a  point  where  there  was  a  good-sized  open- 
ing in  the  forest.  Guards  were  stationed  on  both 
sides  of  the  watercourse,  every  man  being  on  duty 
four  hours  during  the  darkness.  The  horses  were 
tethered  in  a  circle  and  in  the  center  a  small  tent  was 
pitched,  in  which  Mrs.  Dobson,  Nell,  and  the  twins 
might  rest. 

Sam  Barringford  remained  on  guard  duty  from 
eight  o'clock  to  midnight,  his  post  being  to  the  north 
of  the  camp  proper,  where  the  stream  made  a  turn 
between  some  rocks  and  tall  trees.     The  old  fron- 


THE   MASSACRE   OF   A   PACK-TRAIN  67 

tiersman  was  tired  out  by  his  day's  tramp,  but  did 
not  grumble  over  being  compelled  to  keep  awake. 

"It's  got  to  be  done,  an'  thet's  all  there  are  to  it," 
he  said  to  Rodney.  "Reckon  we  kin  sleep  a  week 
when  we  git  to  hum." 

"I  shan't  mind  staying  awake,  when  my  turn 
comes,"  answered  Rodney.  "But  I  do  hope  the 
Indians  won't  appear.  I  shouldn't  care  so  much  if 
we  were  alone,  but  with  Mrs.  Dobson,  Nell,  and  the 
twins  it  is  different." 

The  night  was  a  fairly  clear  one,  with  countless 
stars  showing  between  the  drifting  clouds.  There 
was  no  breeze  worth  mentioning  and  the  stillness, 
away  from  the  somewhat  restless  horses,  was 
intense. 

Barringford  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the 
watercourse,  occasionally  mounting  one  of  the  rocks 
to  get  a  better  look  at  the  surroundings.  His 
trained  eyes  took  in  a  good  portion  of  territory,  and 
the  least  movement  among  the  trees  would  have  at- 
tracted his  attention.  He  was  sleepy,  but  he  did  not 
allow  his  eyes  to  close  for  an  instant. 

He  had  just  climbed  down  from  the  rocks  for  at 
least  the  tenth  time,  when  he  heard  a  rustle  in  some 
bushes  at  a  distance.  He  listened  with  strained  ears, 
at  the  same  time  dropping  flat  upon  the  ground,  so 
that  a  possible  enemy  might  not  see  him  too  readily. 


68  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

All  became  silent,  and  he  waited  patiently  for 
several  minutes.  Then  came  the  crack  of  a  twig, 
as  some  weight  pressed  upon  it.  A  moment  more 
and  a  figure  ran  through  the  bushes,  not  towards  the 
camp  but  from  it. 

"Help!"  came  in  a  woman's  voice.     "Help!" 

"Mrs.  Dobson,  by  ginger!"  ejaculated  the  old 
frontiersman.     "What's  the  matter  with  her?" 

The  fleeing  woman  was  some  distance  away,  and 
he  made  after  her  with  all  possible  speed.  She 
crashed  through  the  bushes  and  he  came  after 
her. 

"Mrs.  Dobson  !"  he  called.  "What  is  the  matter? 
Stop!" 

His  cries,  and  those  of  the  frantic  woman,  aroused 
the  entire  camp,  and  Dobson  himself  came  rushing 
toward  Barringford,  followed  by  Rodney. 

The  old  frontiersman  soon  gained  the  immediate 
rear  of  the  woman.  As  he  did  so,  he  heard  a  rush 
through  the  thickets  ahead  and  caught  a  glimpse  of 
an  Indian.  Then  he  saw  another  red  warrior  rise 
up  from  behind  a  rock,  tomahawk  in  hand.  This 
fellow  made  a  leap  for  Mrs.  Dobson,  but  before  he 
could  use  his  weapon,  Barringford  brought  his  long 
rifle  into  play  and  the  Indian  pitched  forward, 
fatally  wounded  in  the  breast.  The  other  Indian 
continued  to  run,  and  so  did  several  others  who  could 


THE   MASSACRE   OF  A   PACK-TRAIN  69 

be  heard  but  not  seen,  and  soon  their  footsteps  died 
away  in  the  distance. 

"Maria,  what  is  it?"  cried  Asa  Dobson,  catching 
his  wife  by  the  arm.  "What  is  it?"  And  he  gave 
her  a  shake.  Then  he  saw  her  open  her  eyes  and 
stare  at  him.  "Creation!  Be  you  asleep?"  he 
gasped. 

"Asa!  Oh,  save  me!"  she  screamed.  "Save  me 
from  the  Indians!  Don't  let  them  scalp  me!" 
Then  she  gazed  around  in  bewilderment.  "I — I 
thought  we  were  at  the  fort  and  the  Indians  had 
come  in  after  us,"  she  faltered. 

"You  were  dreaming,"  said  her  husband.  "We 
are  on  the  journey  to  Cumberland  and  Bal- 
timore." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know;  but — but "     She  stared 

around  her.  "I — I — where  is  the  tent,  and  the 
horses?" 

"You've  had  a  nightmare,  and  it  did  us  a  heap  o' 
good,"  broke  in  Sam  Barringford.  "Your  runnin' 
around  has  scared  off  some  redskins,  I  reckon." 

By  this  time  half  a  dozen  were  near.  They  gazed 
at  the  red  warrior  whom  Barringford  had  laid  low. 

"He  is  done  for,"  said  Rodney.  "He  is  too  far 
gone  even  to  question  him."  But  even  as  the  young 
soldier  spoke  the  red  man  raised  up  suddenly  and 
flung  his  tomahawk  squarely  at  Barringford.     The 


7<D  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

fling  was  a  weak  one  and  the  weapon  fell  short  of 
its  mark.  Then  the  warrior  sank  back,  gave  a  gasp, 
and  was  dead. 

"Game  to  the  last,"  muttered  Barringford. 
"Don't  know  as  I  blame  him.  Might  be  I'd  do  like- 
wise, ef  one  o'  the  varmin  plugged  me,"  he  added 
philosophically. 

It  took  several  minutes  for  Mrs.  Dobson  to  settle 
herself.  Her  husband  stated  that  she  often  arose 
in  her  sleep.  She  had  been  terribly  worked  up  over 
the  red  men  ever  since  leaving  Fort  Pitt,  and  this 
had  gotten  on  her  nerves. 

The  alarm  kept  the  entire  camp  "on  edge"  until 
daybreak.  Barringford  and  two  others  made 
several  tours  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  but  could  see 
or  hear  nothing  more  of  the  enemy. 

"They  have  either  cleared  out  entirely,  or  else 
they  know  how  to  hide,"  said  the  old  frontiers- 
man. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  the  same  party  that  Packerson 
met?"  questioned  Rodney. 

"Like  as  not,  Rodney.  We  ain't  seen  or  heard  o' 
anybody  else  on  this  trail." 

They  went  on  as  before,  and  the  following  fore- 
noon made  a  discovery  that  rilled  even  the  stoutest 
of  them  with  horror.  Coming  to  a  spot  where  the 
road  led  down  to  a  ford  over  a  good-sized  brook 


THE    MASSACRE   OF   A    PACK-TRAIN  J I 

they  beheld  a  man  lying  beside  a  rock,  with  one 
ear  gone  and  part  of  his  scalp  cut  away.  The 
man  was  shot  through  the  body  and  was  all  but 
dead. 

"Who  shot  you?"  asked  one  of  the  frontiersman, 
running  up. 

"Th — the  Indians,"  was  the  low  and  hoarse 
answer.     "Water !" 

Water  was  brought,  but  the  man  was  almost  too 
weak  to  drink.  One  of  the  party  recognized  him  as 
Stephen  Banoggin,  a  trader  well  known  in  those 
days  around  Carlisle  and  Bedford.  Banoggin  had 
left  Bedford  ten  days  before,  with  a  view  of  estab- 
lishing a  new  trading  post  in  the  vicinity  of  Venango 
as  soon  as  it  seemed  safe  to  do  so. 

"All  dead — all  killed  by  the  Indians!"  was  about 
all  he  could  say.  "Fool,  fool  that  I  was  to  attempt 
it !     All  dead !"     And  that  night  he  expired. 

His  tale  was  almost  true,  although  not  quite  so. 
His  pack-train  had  consisted  of  ten  horses  and  nine 
men,  including  three  negroes  who  were  his  slaves. 
The  Indians — a  mixed  band  under  a  chief  called 
Crow  Feather — had  ambushed  the  train  at  the  ford 
and  slained  or  mortally  wounded  all  but  one  negro 
and  a  white  hunter  named  Sturm,  a  German  from 
upper  Pennsylvania.  Sturm  and  the  negro  got 
away    together,    each    however    wounded.      They 


J2  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

traveled  for  four  weeks  in  the  forest,  when  Sturm 
went  crazy.  At  last  they  reached  a  settlement, 
where  the  negro  told  his  story.  Sturm  was  placed 
under  medical  care  and  regained  his  reason  some 
time  later. 

The  sights  presented  to  Rodney  and  the  others  at 
the  ford  were  so  revolting  that  Mrs.  Dobson,  Nell, 
and  the  twins  were  held  back,  that  they  might  not 
see  what  had  occurred.  The  slain  were  all  scalped 
and  an  effort  had  been  made  to  burn  one  at  the  stake. 
The  bodies  of  the  men  and  the  dead  horses  lay  to- 
gether. Four  horses  were  missing,  and  on  these  the 
Indians  had  packed  such  stores  as  they  wanted, 
scattering  the  other  goods  or  burning  them. 

"This  is  enough  to  make  one  sick !"  said  Rodney, 
as  he  turned  away  with  a  shudder.  "These  red- 
skins must  have  been  fiends!" 

"They  were  certainly  cold-blooded."  answered 
Barringford.  "Poor  Banoggin !  He  had  better 
have  stayed  in  the  east." 

"Sam,  this  doesn't  look  as  if  it  would  be  safe  for 
us  to  go  any  further." 

"Easily  said,  lad;  but  what  are  ye  goin'  to 
do?" 

"You  mean  it  is  as  safe  to  go  forward  as  to  turn 
back?" 

"Don't  it  look  thet  way?" 


THE    MASSACRE   OF   A   PACK-TRAIN  73 

"Maybe.  But  we  are  a  little  closer  to  Fort  Pitt 
than  we  are  to  Fort  Cumberland." 

"Thet's  true  too.  But  I  don't  reckon  the  Injuns 
will  dare  to  go  as  far  east  as  Cumberland — not  after 
the  lickin'  they  got  at  Bushy  Run." 

"The  band  that  did  this  can't  be  the  band  that 
tried  to  surround  us." 

"No,  they  are  another  tribe,  I  think." 

"Then  the  forest  must  still  be  full  of  wandering 
bands,  and  we  are  not  near  as  safe  as  we  thought  we 
were." 

"We've  got  to  make  the  best  on't,  Rodney.  We 
must  travel  as  fast  as  we  can  and  keep  our  eyes 
peeled  more'n  ever  before.  It's  the  only  way  out, 
so  far  as  I  kin  see." 

The  bodies  of  the  slain  were  placed  in  a  hollow, 
with  some  flat  stones  on  top,  to  keep  off  the  wolves 
and  other  wild  beasts.  The  place  was  marked  on 
the  trees.  A  few  of  Banoggin's  possessions  were 
taken  along  and  the  others  left  where  they  had 
fallen. 

"Poor  fellow,  he  will  never  want  anything  in  this 
life  again,"  murmured  Rodney,  brokenly.  And 
when  the  trader  died  they  placed  his  body  away  with 
those  of  his  followers.  Fortunately  he  had  been  a 
bachelor,  so  there  would  be  no  widow  or  child  to 
mourn  his  loss. 


74  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

Early  in  the  morning  Rodney  and  those  with  him 
moved  on  again.  Everybody  in  the  party  was  ex- 
ceedingly sober.  All  realized  their  great  danger. 
The  fate  of  Stephen  Banoggin  and  his  party  was 
ever  before  their  eyes  and  in  their  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  IX 


UNDER    THE    CLIFF 


"Thank  fortune  we  have  come  so  far  without 
injury !" 

It  was  Rodney  who  uttered  the  words.  He  and 
Sam  Barringford  were  standing  on  a  little  rise  of 
ground,  the  trail  in  front  and  behind  them.  The 
warm  noonday  sun  shone  down  upon  them,  and  all 
was  calm  and  peaceful  with  not  an  enemy  of  any 
kind  in  sight.  Close  at  hand  Dobson  and  his  wife 
were  preparing  a  meal  for  all  hands  and  little  Nell 
was  playing  with  the  twins. 

Two  days  had  passed  since  they  had  left  the  fate- 
ful ford,  and  they  had  covered  thirty-two  miles,  over 
a  trail  which  the  past  rains  had  left  in  anything  but 
a  good  condition.  They  had  been  on  guard  every 
minute,  day  and  night,  their  nerves  strung  to  top 
tension.  The  early  morning  had  taken  them 
through  a  spot  lined  upon  either  side  with  tall  rocks, 
and  they  had  expected  a  shot  at  almost  every  turn — 
but  nothing  had  come  to  disturb  them. 

Considering  the  condition  of  the  road,  the  horses 
75 


j6  TRAIT.   AND   TRADING   POST 

had  done  well.  Only  one  was  injured, — from  slip- 
ping over  some  rocks, — but  he  could  still  carry  his 
load.  Nobody  was  sick,  although  the  constant 
worry  had  given  Mrs.  Dobson  a  headache. 

"While  we  are  waiting  for  dinner,  let  us  go  ahead 
and  look  at  the  trail,"  suggested  Rodney;  and  Bar- 
ringford  agreed.  Not  far  off  was  another  hollow, 
backed  b}''  a  cliff  of  rocks,  overgrown  with  heavy 
vines,  and  they  were  both  anxious  to  know  what  was 
beyond. 

They  gained  the  region  of  the  cliff  without  dif- 
ficulty. To  save  himself  the  trouble  of  climbing  the 
rough  rocks,  Rodney  tested  the  vines  and  then  com- 
menced to  pull  himself  up,  hand  over  hand. 

"Be  careful  that  you  don't  fall !"  cried  the  old 
frontiersman.  "These  rocks  at  the  bottom  ain't  no 
easy  bed  to  drop  on,  I  kin  tell  ye  thet !" 

"The  vines  are  strong  enough  to  hold  a  horse," 
answered  the  young  soldier. 

He  continued  to  go  up,  until  he  was  a  good  fifteen 
feet  over  Barringford's  head.  He  had  still  six 
feet  to  go,  when  he  heard  a  slight  sound  from 
above. 

"Must  be  the  vines  tearing  away,"  he  told  himself, 
after  a  pause.  "Maybe  they  are  not  as  strong  as  I 
thought  they  were." 

He  waited  and  then  went  up  an  additional  foot  or 


He  glanced  up,  saw  his  dire  peril,  and  let  himself  drop. 
Page  77. 


UNDER   THE   CLIFF  77 

two.  The  vines  held,  and  he  took  another  grip  of 
them  a  little  higher  up.  His  head  was  now  within 
a  yard  of  the  top  of  the  cliff,  which  was  cov- 
ered with  the  vines  and  a  stunted  growth  of 
bushes. 

Suddenly,  from  out  of  the  bushes,  there  appeared 
the  head  of  an  Indian,  bedecked  in  war-paint  and 
feathers.  Then  a  long,  bronzed  arm  stole  forward, 
holding  a  tomahawk.  The  tomahawk  was  raised 
and  a  blow  was  aimed  at  Rodney's  head. 

Had  the  blow  fallen  as  intended,  the  young  sol- 
dier's skull  must  have  been  cleft  in  twain.  He 
glanced  up,  saw  his  dire  peril,  and  let  himself  drop. 
An  instant  later  a  shot  rang  out  from  below,  and  the 
Indian's  hand  quivered  and  the  hatchet  slipped  down 
among  the  vines  and  out  of  sight. 

Rodney  struck  the  rocks  below  heavily  and  rolled 
over.  When  he  sat  up  he  found  Sam  Barringford 
beside  him,  the  smoke  still  rolling  out  of  the  fron- 
tiersman's gun. 

"Oh,  Sam "  he  began,  and  knew  not  what 

further  to  say. 

"Press  in  clost  to  the  wall,"  answered  the  fron- 
tiersman, hastily,  and  began  to  reload  his  rifle  with 
all  speed.  Rodney's  gun  stood  against  the  rocks, 
where  he  had  left  it  on  starting  to  mount  the 
cliff. 


78  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"Did  you  hit  him,  Sam  ?" 

"Yes,  an'  I  reckon  I  broke  his  wrist — leas'wise, 
he  drapped  the  tomahawk.  It  was  a  narrer  shave 
fer  you,  lad." 

"Indeed  it  was."  Rodney  tried  to  catch  his 
breath,  which  the  sudden  drop  had  knocked  out  of 
him.     "Do  you  suppose  he  is  alone?" 

"Ain't  supposin'  nuthin  jest  yit.  Are  you  all 
right?" 

"I— think  so." 

Both  pressed  in  close  to  the  rocky  wall,  so  that 
no  one  standing  above  could  see  them.  They  lis- 
tened, but  no  sound  from  above  reached  them. 

"Perhaps  the  Indian  ran  away,"  said  Rodney, 
wiping  the  blood  from  where  his  left  hand  had  been 
scratched. 

"Don't  be  too  sure,  Rodney." 

"If  the  enemy  are  so  close  we  ought  to  warn  the 
others." 

"The  rifle  shot  will  do  that.  Maybe  somebuddy 
will  be  comin'  this  way  soon." 

They  waited  another  five  minutes,  even  the  old 
frontiersman  not  knowing  exactly  what  to  do.  Then 
they  saw  a  frontiersman  named  Casbury  coming  for- 
ward, slowly  and  cautiously. 

"Look  out!"  shouted  Barringford.  "Injun  on 
the  rocks !"     And  he  pointed  upward. 


UNDER   THE   CLIFF  79 

Casbury  understood,  and  promptly  dove  out  of 
sight  behind  some  bushes.  As  he  did  this  there  was 
a  crashing  through  the  vines,  and  a  mass  of  rocks 
and  dirt  came  down  directly  in  front  of  where  Rod- 
ney and  Barringford  were  standing. 

"Goin'  to  bombard  us  with  rocks,  hey?"  snorted 
the  old  frontiersman.  "Maybe  I  kin  play  ye  a  trick 
fer  that.  Groan,  Rodney,  groan,"  and  he  began  to 
groan  and  moan,  as  if  in  the  greatest  of  pain.  Rod- 
ney did  the  same,  keeping  it  up  several  minutes. 
Then  both  began  to  breathe  heavily,  as  though 
totally  exhausted. 

Several  minutes  more  passed  and  Rodney  and 
Barringford  breathed  softer  and  softer.  Thrown 
off  their  guard,  and  thinking  the  whites  dead  or  mor- 
tally hurt,  three  Indians  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  to  get  a  view  of  the  situation. 

The  young  soldier  and  the  old  frontiersman  were 
on  the  alert,  and  as  soon  as  the  warriors  appeared 
they  blazed  away.  Two  drew  back,  one  with  a 
shot  through  the  side  of  the  neck.  The  third  pitched 
forward  with  a  yell,  struck  the  rocks  head  first,  and 
lay  dead  where  he  had  landed. 

"There,  I  reckon  thet  will  teach  'em  a  lesson," 
cried  Sam  Barringford,  as  he  and  Rodney  again 
loaded  up. 

A  shot  was  now  fired  by  Casbury,  and  another 


80  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

Indian  was  hit  in  the  shoulder.  Then  Casbury  saw 
four  Indians  run  from  the  front  of  the  cliff  and  dis- 
appear in  the  bushes  far  back. 

"Come  on,  if  you  want  to!"  cried  Casbury,  and 
leaving  the  shelter  of  the  cliff  Rodney  and  Barring- 
ford  made  for  the  camp  with  all  haste.  Here  they 
found  all  the  others  on  guard.  The  midday  meal 
was  forgotten,  and  the  men  stood  ready  to  shoot  the 
moment  a  red  warrior  showed  himself. 

"This  is  the  worst  possible  place  to  be  caught  in," 
said  Rodney.  "The  Indians  can  get  behind  yonder 
trees  and  pick  us  off  at  will — if  they  have  any  fire- 
arms." 

"I  saw  nothing  but  bows  and  arrows,"  said  Cas- 
bury.    "Still,  they  may  have  guns." 

The  situation  was  talked  over  while  they  waited 
for  the  Indians  to  reappear.  Some  brushwood  had 
been  gathered  for  the  fire,  and  Mrs.  Dobson  and  the 
children  were  placed  behind  this  and  behind  some  of 
the  horses. 

"I'm  going  over  into  the  woods,"  said  Barring- 
ford,  to  the  others.  "If  I  see  anything  wrong,  I'll 
screech  like  an  owl." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  go  along  ?"  asked  Rodney. 

"No,  lad,  I  want  you  to  stay  here,  by  Nell  an'  the 
twins." 

Barringford  slipped  to  the  rear,  crawled  through 


UNDER   THE   CLIFF  8l 

the  grass,  and  thus  reached  a  few  low  bushes,  from 
which  he  made  his  way  into  the  forest. 

Two  hours  went  by  slowly.  Not  an  Indian 
showed  himself,  nor  did  any  signal  come  from  Bar- 
ringford.  The  men  remained  on  the  alert,  and  when 
a  rabbit  crossed  the  trail  two  drew  a  bead  on  the 
animal  like  a  flash. 

"I  trust  Sam  hasn't  gotten  into  trouble,"  said 
Rodney,  at  last. 

"If  he  has,  he'll  have  to  git  out  o'  it,"  answered 
one  of  the  others,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

Presently  one  of  the  regulars  saw  a  form  wrig- 
gling through  the  grass.  He  was  on  the  point  of 
firing  when  he  recognized  the  old  frontiers- 
man. Barringford  came  in  a  good  deal  out  of 
breath. 

"We've  got  to  move,  an'  move  quick,  too!"  he 
announced.  "There's  a  crowd  o'  thirty  Injuns  over 
thar," — he  pointed  with  his  hand.  "They  are  goin' 
to  attack  us  as  soon  as  the  sun  goes  down." 

"But  where  shall  we  move  to?"  questioned 
Rodney. 

"I  war  thinkin'  o'  thet  cave  ye  spoke  about,  Hemp- 
ser,"  went  on  Barringford,  turning  to  one  of  the 
other  old  hunters.  "You  said  it  war  nigh 
here." 

"It's  half  a  mile  beyond  the  cliff,"  was  Hempser's 


82  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

answer.  "I  don't  know  the  way  very  good,  but  I 
think  I  can  find  it." 

"Then  thet  is  where  we'll  go,  an'  to  onct,"  de- 
cided Sam  Barringford. 

Not  a  minute  was  lost  in  breaking  camp,  and  in  a 
close  body  the  pack-train  set  out,  past  the  cliff  and 
then  through  a  valley  of  heavy  grass  and  bushes. 
The  men  carried  their  guns  ready  for  use,  and 
screened  Mrs.  Dobson  and  the  children  as  much  as 
possible. 

"Oh  dear!  I'd  rather  be  dead  than  be  so  wor- 
ried," sighed  the  woman.  'T  am  that  nervous  I  am 
ready  to  drop !" 

At  the  end  of  the  short  valley  was  another  rise  of 
rocks,  among  which  was  located  the  cave.  They 
had  just  gained  the  first  of  the  rocks  when  a 
hideous  war-whoop  sounded  out  on  the  afternoon 
air. 

"They  have  discovered  us !"  cried  Rodney,  and  he 
was  right.  At  the  far  end  of  the  valley  appeared 
fully  a  score  of  Indians,  a  few  on  horseback  and  the 
others  on  foot. 

The  Indians  had  been  surprised,  thinking  the 
whites  were  still  on  the  trail.  But  they  soon  re- 
covered, and  came  riding  and  running  towards  our 
friends,  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  lungs  and  flourish- 
ing their  tomahawks.     A  moment  later  they  sent  a 


UNDER   THE   CLIFF  83 

volley  of  arrows  and  several  rifle  shots,  for  some 
carried  one  kind  of  weapon  and  some  the 
other. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  asked  Barringford  of  Rodney, 
as  he  saw  the  young  soldier  stagger. 

"No,  an  arrow  hit  me  in  the  coat-sleeve,  that's  all 
— it  didn't  get  through  my  shirt  though." 

One  of  the  regulars  had  been  struck  by  a  bullet  in 
the  shoulder,  and  his  friends  had  to  help  him  along. 
Then  the  Indians  sent  forth  more  arrows,  one  of 
which  tore  through  little  Nell's  dress. 

"Oh !"  cried  the  little  miss,  in  great  terror. 

"Give  'em  a  dose  o'  their  own  medicine!"  ordered 
Barringford.  "Make  the  shots  tell!"  And  then 
everybody  fired  at  the  advancing  foe,  and  three  of 
the  red  warriors  pitched  into  the  grass,  while  two 
others  stopped  running  and  then  limped  to  the  rear, 
badly  wounded. 

Hempser  was  looking  around  anxiously  for  the 
cave.  At  first  he  could  not  locate  it,  but,  just  as  the 
Indians  advanced  again,  he  discovered  a  hole  and 
rushed  towards  it. 

"Here  you  are!"  he  shouted.  "This  way!  Once 
in  the  cave,  I  think  we  can  hold  'em  at  bay !" 

"Into  the  cave !"  cried  Barringford.  "Mrs.  Dob- 
son  and  the  children  first.  Hempser,  is  there  a  back 
opening?" 


84  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

'Yes,  but  not  a  very  big  one.  We  can  close  it  up 
with  loose  rocks." 

"Then  you  run  back  and  pile  up  the  rocks.  The 
others  remain  at  this  opening,  to  keep  the  Indians  at 
a  distance." 


CHAPTER  X 

BARRINGFORD    AS    A    SCOUT 

The  volley  poured  into  the  Indians  by  the  whites 
made  the  red  warriors  pause  for  the  time  being. 
They  were  close  to  a  clump  of  bushes  and  trees 
growing  near  the  center  of  the  glade,  and  they  got 
behind  this  shelter  with  alacrity. 

In  the  cave  all  was  confusion.  It  was  an  opening 
ten  to  fifteen  feet  in  height  and  equally  broad  at  the 
mouth.  It  ran  back  a  distance  of  over  two  hundred 
feet,  where  it  ended  in  a  split  among  the  rocks,  com- 
ing out  at  a  point  where  there  was  a  thick  patch  of 
nettle  bushes. 

The  horses  had  been  brought  into  the  cave  and 
were  led  to  the  rear.  Here  Hempser  worked  like 
a  Trojan,  with  one  of  the  regulars  helping  him. 
Loose  stones  were  to  be  had  in  plenty,  and  they 
blocked  up  the  rear  opening  completely. 

"They'll  have  their  hands  full,  getting  in  this 
way,"  said  the  regular.  "The  nettles  will  keep  them 
back  if  nothing  else  will." 

"Right  you  are,"  answered  Hempser.  "Injuns 
85 


86  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

don't  like  to  git  scratched  any  more  than  anybody 
else." 

At  the  front  of  the  cavern  Sam  Barringford  took 
command.  A  glance  showed  him  how  the  land  lay, 
and  he  at  once  ordered  some  of  the  men  to  pile  up 
the  loose  stones  to  a  height  of  several  feet.  This 
formed  a  barricade,  behind  which  the  frontiersmen 
and  regulars  could  lie  with  but  little  danger  of  the 
enemy  picking  them  off. 

"This  is  a  situation  we  didn't  bargain  for," 
said  Rodney,  after  the  construction  of  the  bar- 
ricade had  come  to  an  end.  "I  must  say  I  don't 
like  it." 

"Well,  lad,  it's  better  than  being  surrounded  in 
the  open,"  answered  Barringford,  with  an  effort  to 
look  on  the  bright  side  of  the  affair. 

"I  don't  think  they'll  attack  us  now,"  went  on  the 
young  soldier.     "But  they  may  do  it  to-night." 

"We'll  have  to  keep  on  guard,  and  shoot  the  first 
man  who  shows  himself,"  put  in  Casbury. 

"Maybe  they'll  try  to  starve  us  out,"  came  from 
another  of  the  frontiersman. 

"We've  got  rations  enough  for  a  week  or  more,  on 
a  pinch,"  said  Rodney.  "We've  got  our  regular 
things  and  also  that  "deer  Barton  shot  early  this 
morning,  and  some  rabbits." 

"How  about  water?"  asked  another. 


BARRINGFORD   AS   A   SCOUT  87 

"We'll  have  to  see  about  that,"  said  Sam  Barring- 
ford. 

Satisfied  that  the  Indians  did  not  contemplate  an 
immediate  attack,  the  old  frontiersman,  accompanied 
by  Rodney,  made  a  tour  of  the  cave,  lighting  a  torch 
for  that  purpose.  In  one  corner  the  rocks  were 
found  to  be  very  damp,  and  when  some  were  pulled 
up  a  little  water  trickled  forth. 

"Thar's  a  spring  thar,"  said  Barringford,  with 
satisfaction.  "We  kin  do  a  bit  o'  diggin'  an'  then 
have  all  the  water  we  wish."  A  little  later  two  of 
the  regulars  set  to  work,  with  pike-poles  and  shovels, 
and  soon  had  a  hollow  made  into  which  the  water 
flowed  to  a  depth  of  several  inches.  The  water  was 
brought  up  in  a  dipper,  and  proved  to  be  both  clear 
and  wholesome. 

As  the  time  slipped  by  the  whole  party  became 
more  composed,  and  Nell  and  the  twins  clamored  for 
their  delayed  dinner.  A  meal  was  prepared  in  the 
cave,  which  the  men  ate  while  on  the  watch. 

"Oh,  Rodney,  will  the  bad  Indians  catch  us  in 
here?"  asked  Nell,  as  she  came  up  to  her  elder 
brother. 

"I  think  not,  Nell,"  he  answered,  hopefully. 

"I  wish  I  was  home." 

"So  do  I,  Nell — wish  it  more  for  your  sake  than 
for  my  own." 


88  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"Tom  wants  to  go  out  and  fight  the  bad  Indians," 
said  one  of  the  twins.  He  had  picked  up  a  rifle  rest- 
ing against  the  wall  and  was  trying  to  shoulder  the 
long  weapon. 

"Here,  you  give  me  that  gun !"  cried  Rodney, 
reaching  for  it.  "Tom,  you  mustn't  play  with  the 
guns.     One  of  'em  might  go  off  and  hurt  you." 

"Tom  ain't  'fraid  of  no  gun,"  said  the  little  boy. 
"Want  to  shoot  the  Indians." 

"You  keep  quiet  and  stay  with  Mrs.  Dobson  or 
Nell." 

"How  long  will  we  have  to  stay  here,  Rodney?" 
asked  his  little  sister. 

"I  can't  answer  that  question,  Nell.  It  depends 
on  the  Indians.  Perhaps  they'll  get  tired  of  watch- 
ing us  and  go  away." 

It  was  a  hard  matter  to  keep  the  twins  quiet,  but 
presently  both  grew  tired  of  wandering  around  the 
cave,  and  went  to  sleep  on  a  pair  of  blankets  spread 
out  for  them.  Mrs.  Dobson  sat  on  one  of  the  packs 
with  Nell  beside  her  and  her  husband  not  far  off. 

"Oh,  Asa,  how  foolish  we  were  to  come  out  to 
this  western  country!"  sighed  the  woman,  for  at 
least  the  fiftieth  time.  "We  should  have  stayed  at 
home  and  been  content  with  what  we  had !" 

"Ain't  no  uset  to  cry  over  spilt  milk,"  grumbled 
her  husband. 


BARRINGFORD   AS  A   SCOUT  89 

"I  think  the  Indians  will  come  to-night  and  scalp 
all  of  us !" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Dobson,  you  don't  mean  that !"  gasped 
little  Nell. 

"Don't  scare  the  little  girl,  Mrs.  Dobson,"  put  in 
Casbury,  who  chanced  to  be  near.  "It  won't  help 
matters  to  git  anybuddy  worked  up." 

At  last  the  sun  sank  in  the  west  and  it  began  to 
grow  dark  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Two  men 
were  stationed  at  the  spot  where  the  rear  opening 
had  been,  and  all  the  others  gathered  at  the 
front.  Then  Sam  Barringford  called  Rodney  to 
him. 

"I'm  a-goin'  out  on  a  scoutin'  tour,"  said  the  old 
frontiersman.  "I'm  a-goin'  to  leave  you  an'  Cas- 
bury in  charge  until  I  git  back.  Don't  shoot  me,  but 
don't  let  none  o'  them  Injuns  git  near,  nuther." 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  go  with  you,  Sam?" 

"No,  it  will  be  hard  enough  fer  one  to  git  around, 
let  alone  two.  Ef  ye  ain't  sure  it's  me  comin'  back, 
hoot  like  an  owl  an'  I'll  answer  like  a  cat-bird,  un- 
derstand?" 

"Yes." 

Barringford  gave  the  others  a  few  directions  and 
then,  stepping  quickly  over  the  rocks,  snaked  his 
way  along  through  the  grass  to  a  fringe  of  low 
bushes.     From  the  bushes  he  made  for  the  rough 


90  TRAIL  AND   TRADING    POST 

rocks,  where  he  paused,  to  consider  the  situation  in 
all  of  its  details. 

The  old  frontiersman  felt  that  he  was  surrounded 
by  enemies  fully  as  alert  as  himself  and  ready  to 
shoot  him  down  on  sight. 

"An'  they  won't  ax  me  if  I'll  like  it  nuther,"  he 
murmured  to  himself.  "They  be  jest  a-hankerin' 
arter  my  sculp  like  all  possessed." 

Peering  cautiously  around,  he  saw  nobody,  and 
after  a  short  wait  took  his  way  between  the  rocks 
towards  the  spot  where  the  rear  of  the  cave  was 
located.  Here  he  listened  again,  and  this  time  heard 
the  low  murmur  of  two  voices.  But  they  were  those 
of  Dobson,  the  settler,  and  a  regular,  talking  from 
inside. 

"They  ought  to  know  enough  to  keep  quiet," 
mused  the  old  frontiersman,  in  disgust.  "How  can 
they  spot  the  enemy  if  they  gab  like  thet?" 

In  a  few  minutes  the  voices  ceased,  and  thinking 
the  coast  clear  the  old  frontiersman  worked  his  way 
among  the  rocks  and  through  the  bushes  toward  a 
point  he  imagined  the  Indians  might  be  holding. 
The  darkness  of  night  had  now  fallen  completely 
over  the  forest  and  scarcely  a  sound  broke  the  still- 
ness. 

Barringford  was  about  to  cross  to  another  patch 
of  brushwood  when  the  distant  call  of  a  night  bird 


BARRINGFORD   AS   A   SCOUT  91 

arrested  his  attention.  He  was  well  versed  in  the 
calls  of  all  birds  and  that  which  he  heard  did  not 
sound  exactly  true  to  his  ear.  He  smiled  grimly  to 
himself  and  waited. 

As  he  had  surmised,  an  answering  call  soon  fol- 
lowed. It  came  from  the  very  brushwood  he  had 
been  on  the  point  of  entering,  and  a  tall  Indian 
stepped  forth,  as  if  to  advance.  Before  Barringford 
could  retreat  or  draw  to  one  side  the  pair  were  face 
to  face. 

Not  a  word  was  uttered — indeed,  there  was  no 
time  for  speech.  The  Indian  had  his  tomahawk  in 
his  hand,  and  this  he  raised,  aiming  a  blow  at  the 
old  frontiersman's  skull.  As  old  as  he  was  getting, 
Barringford  was  still  nimble  on  his  feet  and  dexter- 
ously dodged  to  one  side.  As  the  arm  of  the  red 
warrior  came  down,  he  caught  the  red  man  by  the 
shoulder,  and  over  went  the  pair  on  the  soil.  Then 
the  Indian  tried  to  cry  out,  but  Barringford's  hand 
was  clapped  on  his  mouth. 

It  now  became  a  desperate  but  silent  struggle  for 
life.  From  the  red  man's  mouth,  the  old  frontiers- 
man's hand  was  shifted  to  his  throat,  which  was 
caught  with  a  grip  of  steel.  The  Indian  struggled 
desperately,  first  kicking  heavily  and  then  drawing 
up  a  knee  against  Barringford's  breast.  Then  he 
tried  to  use  his  tomahawk  again,  and  hit  the  fron- 


92  TRAIL    AND    TRADING    POST 

tiersman  a  glancing  blow  on  the  shoulder.  The 
hatchet  fell,  and  in  a  twinkling  the  Indian  had  Bar- 
ringford  by  the  throat,  in  a  clutch  equally  firm  and 
relentless. 

Like  two  bulldogs  that  have  a  death-grip  and  will 
not  let  go,  white  man  and  Indian  rolled  over  and 
over,  on  the  rocks  and  in  the  bushes,  each  doing  all 
in  his  power  to  get  the  better  of  the  other.  The 
Indian  was  muscular,  and  his  strength  was  equal  if 
not  superior  to  that  of  his  white  adversary.  But 
Barringford  had  secured  the  first  grip,  and  the  red 
man's  breath  was  fast  leaving  him.  His  tongue 
stuck  out,  his  eyes  bulged  from  their  sockets,  and 
he  could  not  utter  even  so  much  as  a  faint  gurgle. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  an  interruption  came. 
Another  form  glided  into  the  midst  of  the  bushes. 
It  was  a  second  Indian,  and  a  glance  showed  him 
the  condition  of  affairs.  Without  stopping  to  use 
his  tomahawk  or  his  knife  he  kicked  Barringford 
heavily  in  the  left  ear.  Then  followed  other  blows, 
and  with  a  groan  the  old  frontiersman  stretched  out 
on  the  rocks  unconscious. 

As  the  hold  on  his  throat  relaxed  the  Indian  who 
had  been  in  the  death  struggle  gave  a  gasp  and 
stared  about  him.  The  coming  of  his  fellow  warrior 
had  undoubtedly  saved  his  life. 

"Where  did  that  white  man  come  from?"  asked 


BARRINGFORD   AS   A    SCOUT  93 

the  second  Indian,  as  he  gave  Barringford  a  close 
look. 

"Cushina  knows  not,"  was  the  faint  reply.  It 
was  some  time  before  the  other  could  get  back  his 
breath. 

"Are  there  others  about?" 

At  this  question  Cushina  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Did  he  come  from  the  cave,  think  you?" 

"Perhaps — all  of  the  whites  were  driven  to  that 
shelter,  like  so  many  dogs  of  the  prairie." 

"It  may  not  be  so.  Others  may  be  at  hand.  We 
must  be  careful.  Moon  Eye  has  news  of  some 
soldiers.     They  may  be  marching  in  this  direction." 

"Then  Moon  Eye  himself  is  here  ?" 

"Yes." 

The  first  warrior  drew  a  long  breath  and  then 
brought  from  his  girdle  a  keen  hunting  knife.  He 
felt  of  its  edge  with  satisfaction. 

"Mist  of  the  Lake  has  come  to  the  aid  of  Cushina 
and  has  brought  the  white  man  to  grief,"  said  he, 
looking  at  the  other  closely.  "Does  Mist  of  the 
Lake  claim  the  scalp  ?" 

At  this  query  the  second  Indian  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"Does  Cushina  still  wish  to  linger  in  the  footsteps 
of  Laughing  Eyes  and  make  her  his  bride?"  he 
asked,  after  another  pause. 


94  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

Cushina  winced  at  this  question.  Both  he  and 
Mist  of  the  Lake  were  in  love  with  the  same  Indian 
maiden.  As  Mist  of  the  Lake  had  saved  his  life  he 
was  bound,  according  to  the  laws  of  his  tribe,  to 
give  his  rival  a  clear  field  in  his  wooing. 

"Laughing  Eyes  is  Mist  of  the  Lake's — if  she  will 
have  him,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"And  the  scalp  of  the  white  man  belongs  to 
Cushina,"  was  the  prompt  reply  of  the  other  war- 
rior.    "He  can  take  it  at  his  pleasure." 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN    WHICH    WHITE    BUFFALO    APPEARS 

"Something  must  surely  have  happened  to  Sam, 
or  he  wouldn't  stay  away  as  long  as  this,"  said  Rod- 
ney to  Casbury,  after  half  the  night  had  passed  with- 
out the  old  frontiersman  reappearing. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  Rodney.  Maybe  the 
Injuns  caught  an'  killed  him." 

"Don't  you  think  somebody  ought  to  go  out  and 
try  to  hunt  him  up?" 

"It  won't  be  any  safer  for  us  than  it  was  for  him," 
answered  the  borderman,  with  a  grave  shake  of  his 
head. 

Had  it  not  been  for  Nell  and  the  twins  Rodney 
might  have  gone  on  a  hunt  for  his  old  friend.  But 
he  felt  his  responsibility,  and  so  remained  in  the 
cavern.  He  felt  that  if  an  attack  came  his  place 
was  beside  his  sister  and  the  twins.  Barringford 
thought  as  much  of  the  twins  as  if  they  were  his  own 
flesh  and  blood,  and  would  not  forgive  him  did  he 
not  do  all  he  could  to  shield  the  youngsters  from 
harm. 

95 


96  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

Slowly  the  time  wore  away.  Nell,  the  twins,  and 
Mrs.  Dobson  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  also  several  of 
the  frontiersmen  and  regulars,  who  were  off  duty 
for  the  time  being.  The  cave  was  kept  in  total 
darkness,  so  that  those  inside  could  see  better  what 
was  happening  without. 

Rodney  had  listened  for  the  cry  of  a  catbird  in 
vain,  and  stood  leaning  against  a  rock,  peering  forth 
into  the  semi-darkness.  He  was  tremendously 
sleepy,  having  gotten  only  a  short  nap  the  night 
before. 

Presently  he  straightened  up  and  listened.  Was 
he  mistaken,  or  had  he  heard  the  croaking  of 
a  frog?  He  had  not  noticed  this  earlier  in  the 
night. 

He  was  not  mistaken;  the  croaking  was  repeated, 
at  regular  intervals.  He  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  croak  also,  mimicking  the  sound  as 
best  he  could.  At  once  the  answer  came  back,  and 
the  heart  of  the  young  soldier  gave  a  bound  of  as- 
tonishment and  gratification. 

The  call  was  one  often  used  by  White  Buffalo, 
the  old  chief  of  the  Delawares  who  had  proved 
such  a  friend  to  the  different  members  of  the  Morris 
family.  What  he  could  be  doing  in  this  vicinity 
was  a  mystery,  since  it  was  supposed  that  he  was 
either  at  the  regular  village  of  his  tribe  or  at  the 


IN  WHICH   WHITE   BUFFALO   APPEARS  97 

conference  being  held  by  Sir  William  Johnson  and 
the  red  men  at  Johnson  Hall. 

"Perhaps  it's  a  ruse,"  thought  Rodney.  "I  must 
be  on  my  guard — it  won't  do  to  be  caught  in  a  trap." 

The  croaking  of  the  frog  continued,  moving 
gradually  closer  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Then 
Rodney  saw  something  wave  in  the  air,  between  two 
bushes.  The  object  went  up  and  down  twice,  then 
crosswise  three  times  and  then  around  in  a  circle. 

"White  Buffalo  true  enough!"  murmured  the 
young  soldier.  He  called  some  of  the  others  to  his 
side.  "White  Buffalo,  a  friendly  Indian,  is  out 
there.     He  wants  to  talk  to  us." 

"I'll  trust  none  of  them,"  said  one  of  the  regulars 
promptly.     "They  are  all  cutthroats !" 

"White  Buffalo  has  been  a  friend  to  our  family 
for  years,"  went  on  the  young  soldier.  "I  can 
vouch  for  him  in  every  respect.  You  know  him, 
Casbury,  and  so  do  you,  Malloy." 

"Yes,  he  is  square,  so  far  as  I  know,"  answered 
Casbury. 

"He's  a  putty  good  Indian,  so  he  is,"  said  the 
Irish  borderman  mentioned.  "But  not  wan  av 
thim  can  be  thrusted  whin  the  war's  goin'  ag'in  'im. 
Betther  be  afther  bein'  careful,  Rodney." 

"He  wants  to  talk  to  us — he  has  something  im- 
portant to  say,"  persisted  Rodney. 


98  trail  and  trading  post 

"How  do  yez  know  that  ?" 

"He  just  signaled  to  me.  He  and  my  brother 
Henry  and  cousin  Dave  are  great  friends,  and  White 
Buffalo  taught  us  some  of  his  signals.  We  had  bet- 
ter let  him  come  in  and  talk  to  us." 

Those  in  the  cave  discussed  the  matter  and  at  last 
agreed  to  follow  Rodney's  advice.  But  they  re- 
mained on  guard,  to  shoot  White  Buffalo  or  any 
other  Indian  down,  at  the  first  sign  of  treachery. 

The  matter  settled,  Rodney  signaled  White 
Buffalo  to  approach.  He  started  to  go  forth,  to 
meet  the  friendly  red  man,  but  White  Buffalo  quickly 
warned  him  back.  In  a  minute  the  old  Delaware 
chief  was  in  the  cavern. 

"White  Buffalo,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  cried 
Rodney,  shaking  hands. 

"How!  how!"  returned  the  aged  Indian.  He 
peered  closely  at  Rodney  in  the  darkness.  "My 
friend  Rodney  is  better?     He  can  walk  well?" 

"Yes,  I  am  much  better.  And  how  are  you? 
Hello,  there  is  blood  on  your  face!" 

"White  Buffalo  had  a  fight — down  by  the  river — 
with  some  other  Indians.  They  had  almost  killed 
his  old  friend  Barringford." 

"Sam!     Is  he  alive?" 

"Yes — White  Buffalo  knocked  an  Indian  over. 
Then  he   took   Sam  and   ran   through  the   forest. 


IN   WHICH    WHITE    BUFFALO   APPEARS  99 

They  were  about  to  torture  Sam — to  make  him 
speak  of  this  place  and  who  was  here.  First  one 
Indian  wanted  his  scalp,  but  Moon  Eye  came  up  and 
stopped  the  bloody  work." 

"And  you  fought  the  Indians  alone?" 

"No,  White  Buffalo  has  six  warriors  with  him — 
they  are  watching  down  at  the  river.  Sam  could  not 
come — he  is  too  sorely  wounded.  He  sent  White 
Buffalo.  He  told  White  Buffalo  to  cry  as  a  catbird, 
but  that  is  a  bad  signal — it  would  bring  Moon  Eye 
and  his  warriors  to  the  spot.  So  White  Buffalo 
used  the  old  signal — the  one  he  taught  to  Dave  and 
Henry.  He  thought  his  friend  Rodney  would 
remember." 

"And  I  did  remember.  But  you  are  hurt.  Let 
me  bind  up  the  wound." 

"'Tis  but  a  scratch,"  answered  the  aged  Indian. 
The  cut  smarted  greatly,  but  he  would  not  show  his 
pain. 

"See  here,  what  do  you  know  about  the  other 
Indians  around  here?"  asked  Casbury. 

"They  number  thirty,"  said  White  Buffalo,  who 
had  learned  how  to  count  in  English  style.  "All 
strong,  crafty,  and  full  of  the  war  spirit.  White 
Buffalo's  small  band  can  do  but  little  against  them." 

In  his  own  fashion  the  Indian  then  told  his  story 
in  detail,  how  he  and  his  followers  were  journeying 


IOO  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

to  a  distant  village,  to  try  to  bring  their  entire  tribe 
in  harmony  with  each  other.  They  had  seen  the 
actions  of  Moon  Eye  and  his  followers  while  at  a 
distance  and  come  to  the  conclusion  that  something 
unusual  was  going  on.  They  had  come  closer  and 
heard  the  other  Indians  discuss  the  subject  of  an 
attack  on  the  cave.  The  followers  of  Moon  Eye 
intended  to  wait  until  daybreak  and  then  try  to 
smoke  out  those  in  the  place.  All  the  men  were 
to  be  shot  down  and  scalped,  and  the  woman  and 
the  children  were  to  be  made  captives.  This  much 
White  Buffalo  had  learned  before  going  to  the 
rescue  of  Sam  Barringford.  What  Moon  Eye  and 
his  men  were  going  to  do  now,  the  old  chief  could 
not  tell. 

"What  do  you  think  we  had  best  do?"  asked 
Rodney,  after  the  recital  had  come  to  an  end. 

"Escape  from  the  cavern  without  delay,"  an- 
swered the  aged  Indian.  '"Tis  the  only  hope.  Un- 
less that  is  accomplished  you  will  surely  be  shot  down 
like  bears  coming  from  a  smoke-out." 

"How  shall  we  go?" 

"If  you  will  trust  yourselves  to  White  Buffalo 
he  will  do  what  he  can,"  answered  the  old  chief, 
simply. 

Rodney  was  willing,  and  some  of  the  others  said 
they   would    follow   the   chief,    but   several    of   the 


IN  WHICH   WHITE   BUFFALO   APPEARS         101 

regulars  demurred  and  so  did  Malloy  the  frontiers- 
man. 

"I'll  thrust  meself  to  no  redskin,"  said  the  Irish- 
man, with  a  vigorous  shake  of  his  head.  "I  have  no 
desire  to  wake  up  in  the  marnin'  wid  me  throat 
cut!" 

"I  shall  follow  White  Buffalo,"  said  Rodney, 
decidedly.  "And  I  shall  take  Nell  and  Tom  and 
Artie  with  me." 

"White  Buffalo  is  a  good  Indian !"  cried  Nell,  who 
had  awakened  and  run  forward  to  greet  the  old  chief, 
whom  she  knew  by  the  voice.  "I  know  he  will  save 
me,"  and  she  took  his  hand  confidently. 

At  last  Malloy  and  the  regulars  gave  in  and  all 
looked  to  see  what  White  Buffalo's  first  move  would 
be.  His  plan  to  rescue  them  was  as  old  as  it  was 
simple. 

"White  Buffalo  will  go  back  to  his  braves,"  said 
the  aged  chief.  "They  will  make  a  great  noise  to 
the  northward,  fire  shots  and  yell.  They  will  attack 
one  or  two  of  Moon  Eye's  men.  That  will  cause 
Moon  Eye  to  rush  with  more  warriors  to  that  point. 
Then  my  friends  must  slip  away  in  the  darkness  and 
go  down  to  the  river — to  the  spot  where  Sam  has 
been  left.  I  will  tell  how  the  spot  can  be  found." 
And  he  did  so. 

This  matter  arranged,  White  Buffalo  added  that 


102  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

he  and  his  braves  would  join  the  whites  in  the  morn- 
ing-— the  signal  to  be  the  croaking  of  frogs.  Then, 
after  a  few  additional  words  to  Rodney,  he  bowed 
to  those  around  him,  leaped  over  the  barricade  of 
stones,  and  vanished  into  the  night. 

No  time  was  lost,  after  the  departure  of  the  aged 
Indian  chief,  in  getting  ready  to  leave  the  cave. 
Such  things  as  could  be  dispensed  with  were  left 
behind.  Two  horses  were  brought  to  the  front,  and 
Nell  and  Tom  were  placed  on  one  and  Mrs.  Dobson 
and  Artie  on  another.  All  the  men  looked  to  their 
firearms  and  their  hunting  knives. 

"This  may  be  our  last  night  on  earth,"  said  one 
regular.  "At  the  best,  we  have  only  a  fighting 
chance." 

Casbury  had  followed  White  Buffalo  and  was  out- 
side, on  the  watch.  He  fancied  that  he  saw  an 
Indian  at  a  distance,  but  was  not  sure  and  did  not 
fire. 

A  half-hour  went  by — an  unusually  long  time  to 
those  in  the  cavern,  whose  nerves  were  strung  to 
the  topmost  pitch.  All  was  now  in  readiness  for  the 
flight,  but  so  far  not  a  sound  had  broken  the  still- 
ness. 

"Mebbe  something  has  miscarried,"  observed  one 
regular. 

"White    Buffalo    may   be    dead,"    said   another. 


IN   WHICH   WHITE   BUFFALO   APPEARS         I03 

"One  of  the  Moon  Eye  crowd  may  have  been  lying 
in  wait  for  him." 

A  few  minutes  more  passed,  and  even  Rodney  was 
beginning  to  worry,  when  from  a  distance  came  a 
rifle  shot.  Then  arose  a  mad  yelling,  and  more 
shots  were  fired.  The  din  increased,  until  the  alarm 
appeared  to  spread  through  the  whole  of  the  forest 
to  the  north  of  the  cave.  White  Buffalo  and  his 
six  trusty  followers  were  making  noise  enough  for  a 
band  of  fifty,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  Moon 
Eye  and  his  warriors  were  taken  completely  by  sur- 
prise. 

'"Tis  the  Delawares !"  was  the  cry.  "They  have 
come  to  do  us  battle!" 

"Mist  of  the  Lake  has  been  killed!"  called  out 
another.     "And  Squat  Foot  is  wounded !" 

The  din  kept  on,  and  for  the  time  being  the  atten- 
tion of  all  the  Indians  was  taken  from  the  cavern. 
This  was  what  Rodney  had  hoped  for,  and  as  soon  as 
he  thought  it  safe,  he  ordered  an  advance.  The  men 
rushed  out  of  the  cave  and,  finding  the  coast  clear, 
urged  forward  the  horses,  and  away  went  the  whole 
expedition  into  the  woods  to  the  south  of  the  cavern. 

"There  is  one  Injun!"  cried  an  old  frontiersman. 

"Don't  shoot — unless  it  becomes  necessary !"  said 
Rodney,  hastily,  as  the  man  raised  his  rifle.  "If  we 
can  get  away  silently,  so  much  the  better." 


104  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

The  Indian  had  only  his  bow  and  arrows  with  him. 
He  did  not  stop  to  attack  the  whites,  but  ran  into  the 
forest, — to  join  those  moving  to  the  north.  He, 
like  the  others,  imagined  that  a  large  band  of  their 
hated  rivals,  the  Delawares,  had  appeared. 

Rodney  kept  as  close  as  possible  to  the  horses  on 
which  rode  Mrs.  Dobson  and  the  children.  On 
the  other  side  was  Asa  Dobson,  in  such  a  tremble 
that  he  could  scarcely  walk.  The  settler  imagined 
that  every  minute  might  be  his  last. 

"I'd  give  all  my  money  to  be  back  home  again !" 
he  groaned. 

"Money  doesn't  count  here,"  said  Rodney, 
briefly.  "We  must  use  our  wits,  and  if  the  worst 
comes  to  the  worst,  fight  to  the  last, — for  the  sake  of 
your  wife  and  the  children !" 


CHAPTER  XII 


HOME    ONCE     MORE 


The  route  to  the  river  was  a  rough  one,  over 
jagged  rocks  and  around  stunted  growths  of  ever- 
greens and  elderberry  bushes,  with  here  and  there  a 
bramble  bush  or  a  tangle  of  wild  grapes.  Often  the 
men  stumbled,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
the  horses  got  through  without  throwing  their 
loads. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken,  Rodney  cautioning  all  to 
silence.  Every  eye  and  ear  was  on  the  alert.  Who 
knew  but  what  they  might  be  running  into  an  am- 
bush of  the  worst  kind? 

When  the  watercourse  was  gained, — a  small 
stream  flowing  to  the  southeastward, — they  came  to 
a  halt  in  a  small  grove  of  hemlocks  and  walnuts. 
Not  another  Indian  had  appeared,  for  which  all  were 
thankful. 

The  din  to  the  northward  was  now  growing  less, 
and  Rodney  was  certain  that  White  Buffalo  and  his 
handfuls  of  braves  were  in  retreat,  not  daring  to  meet 
the  superior  force  under  Moon  Eye. 

105 


106  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

On  gaining  the  vicinity  his  Indian  friend  had  men- 
tioned to  him,  Rodney  lost  no  time  in  looking  around 
for  Sam  Barringford. 

"Sam!"  he  called,  softly.     "Sam,  are  you  here?" 

"Rodney!"  came  in  a  weak  voice.  "Here  I  be — 
an'  glad  ye  have  come !" 

The  old  frontiersman  was  up  in  a  short,  wide- 
spreading  tree,  where  White  Buffalo  and  another 
friendly  red  man  had  placed  him.  He  was  weak 
from  his  encounter  with  the  enemy  and  glad  to  have 
the  young  soldier  and  the  others  come  to  his 
aid. 

"I  had  what  ye  might  call  a  putty  clost  shave," 
said  Barringford.  "They  got  me  down  an'  one  o' 
the  rascals  war  a-goin'  to  sculp  me  when  Moon  Eye 
cuts  in  an'  says  to  let  me  alone — he  would  torture  me 
into  tellin'  em'  some  o'  the  white  folks'  secrets — 
about  the  fort  an'  the  soldiers  on  the  march,  an' 
sech.  They  war  a-goin'  to  burn  me  at  a  stake — jest 
as  them  Injuns  war  goin'  to  burn  me  when  I  war  on 
my  way  to  Detroit  with  Dave, — when  White  Buf- 
falo plays  a  trick  on  'em." 

"What  did  he  do,  Sam?" 

"Got  one  o'  his  followers  to  wave  a  torch  from 
some  rocks.  The  feller  war  kivered  with  a  white 
blanket  an'  I  reckon  they  took  him  fer  a  ghost. 
When  Moon  Eye's  crowd  war  lookin'  at  the  figger 


HOME   ONCE    MORE  \OJ 

in  white,  White  Buffalo  come  up  to  me,  fixed  up 
as  one  o'  the  enemy,  an'  cuts  me  loose.  I  didn't 
know  him  myself  till  he  spoke.  The  disguise 
did  the  trick,  and  we  got  away  into  the  forest. 
Then  I  dropped,  I  war  thet  weak,  and  they  brung 
me  here.  Then  he  said  he  would  do  what  he 
could  fer  ye — an'  he  must  have  kept  his  word, 
or  ye  wouldn't  be  here,"  concluded  the  old 
frontiersman. 

White  Buffalo  had  mentioned  another  spot — 
down  the  river — where  the  party  of  whites  might 
wait  until  morning  for  the  Delawares  to  join  them. 
Helping  Sam  Barringford  upon  one  of  the  horses 
that  had  been  carrying  supplies,  they  set  off  for  the 
place  mentioned,  reaching  it  without  mishap  just  as 
day  was  breaking. 

By  this  time  the  entire  party  was  so  worn  out  that 
half  the  number  were  glad  to  throw  themselves 
down  to  rest,  leaving  the  others  on  guard  for  two 
hours,  when  they  were  relieved  by  their  companions. 
A  light  breakfast  was  served,  no  campfire  being  lit 
for  fear  the  smoke  might  attract  the  attention  of  the 
enemy. 

It  was  well  toward  noon  when  White  Buffalo 
came  in,  he  and  his  followers  having  had  to  make  a 
wide  detour,  in  order  to  escape  another  encounter 
with  Moon  Eye.     WThite  Buffalo  had  been  struck 


108  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

in  the  left  forearm  by  a  tomahawk,  an  ugly  but  not  a 
serious  cut,  and  one  brave  had  received  an  arrow  in 
the  fleshy  part  of  the  leg. 

"Do  you  think  they  are  coming  this  way?"  was 
Rodney's  first  question. 

"There  is  no  telling  what  they  will  do  next," 
answered  the  aged  Indian  chief.  "White  Buffalo 
and  his  followers  drew  them  as  far  northward  as 
possible — we  could  do  no  more.  Rodney  had  better 
travel  eastward  as  fast  as  he  can.  In  that  direction 
alone  lies  safety." 

Without  delay  the  march  was  once  more  begun, 
first  to  a  fording  spot  across  the  stream  and  then 
directly  eastward.  They  moved  onward  until  long 
after  sunset,  covering  at  least  fifteen  miles,  over  a 
broken  deer  trail  that  was  rough  in  the  extreme. 
On  the  way  one  horse — that  carrying  Nell  and  little 
Tom — stepped  into  a  hole  and  went  down,  throwing 
both  children  into  the  bushes. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Nell?"  asked  Rodney,  rushing  up 
in  alarm. 

"I — I  think  not !"  she  gasped.  "But  I  don't  like 
such  tumbles  at  all !" 

"Bad  horse,  to  go  down  with  Tom,"  said  the  little 
boy. 

"He  couldn't  help  it,"  answered  Rodney.  "I  am 
glad  you  are  not  injured,"  he  added,  heartily,  and 


HOME   ONCE   MORE  IO9 

picked  the  boy  up  in  his  arms  while  Nell  arose  un- 
aided. 

The  horse  was  in  a  bad  way,  having  broken  his 
leg  and  dislocated  his  shoulder.  To  put  him  out  of 
his  misery,  Rodney  had  one  of  the  Indians  kill  him 
with  several  blows  from  a  tomahawk.  Then  Nell 
and  Tom  were  placed  on  another  horse,  and  the 
party  went  on  as  before. 

The  next  day  found  them  once  more  on  the 
regular  road.  Not  a  sign  of  the  enemy  had  been 
seen  and  all  began  to  breathe  a  little  easier. 

"I  think  we  are  out  of  it  at  last,"  said  Rodney. 
"We  are  getting  pretty  well  on  to  the  east  now." 

"Right  you  are,"  answered  Casbury. 

"That  White  Buffalo  is  a  pretty  good  Injun  after 
all,  so  he  is,"  admitted  Malloy. 

They  had  now  reached  what  in '  past  years  had 
been  the  foremost  of  the  homesteads  along  the  army 
road.  The  places  were  burned  down  without  ex- 
ception, only  the  blackened  ruins  showing  where  log 
cabins  and  stables  had  stood.  The  owners  had  long 
since  either  fled  or  been  killed. 

"It  may  be  a  long  while  before  this  is  settled 
again,"  said  Rodney. 

"Perhaps  not,  lad,"  answered  one  of  the  frontiers- 
men. "As  soon  as  it  is  known  the  Indians  are  under 
control  some  folks  will  come  out  again,  and  others 


IIO  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

will  follow,"  and  this  proved  to  be  true.  Inside  of 
three  years  there  were  more  settlements  along  the 
Forbes  and  the  Braddock  roads  than  ever  be- 
fore. 

Feeling  themselves  fairly  free  from  danger,  they 
did  not  push  along  quite  so  rapidly.  This  rested  the 
horses  and  was  also  more  comfortable  for  Sam 
Barringford,  who  had  suffered  more  than  he  cared 
to  admit. 

"Rodney  will  not  want  White  Buffalo  any  more," 
said  the  aged  chief  one  morning,  when  they  were 
within  two  days'  journey  of  Fort  Cumberland. 
"White  Buffalo  must  go  elsewhere." 

"Won't  you  come  home  with  me?"  asked  the 
young  soldier.  "Father  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  I 
know." 

"White  Buffalo  must  attend  to  the  affairs  of  his 
tribe,"  was  the  reply,  and  soon  the  aged  chief  de- 
parted with  his  followers,  stating  that  if  it  was 
possible  he  would  stop  at  Fort  Pitt  and  let  James 
Morris,  Dave,  and  Henry  know  how  they  had  come 
through  without  great  loss.  Rodney  thanked  the 
Indian  for  all  he  had  done  and  shook  hands  warmly, 
and  Barringford  did  the  same.  It  was  a  long  while, 
and  many  startling  things  occurred,  before  they  saw 
White  Buffalo  again. 

The  thoughts  of  Rodney  and  his  sister  turned 


HOME   ONCE   MORE  III 

homeward  now,  and  both  were  anxious  to  see  the  old 
homestead  once  more.  The  twins  did  not  remem- 
ber much,  having  been  away  so  long,  but  they  were 
glad  to  get  away  from  "the  shooting  Indians"  as 
Artie  called  them. 

It  was  a  cold  but  clear  day  when  the  expedition 
reached  Fort  Cumberland.  Here  the  regulars  re- 
ported, as  they  had  been  told  to  do,  and  were 
properly  discharged  from  further  service  in  the 
army.  Rodney,  Barringford,  and  the  others  also 
told  their  stories  and  delivered  a  message  sent  by 
Colonel  Bouquet,  who  was  still  near  Fort  Pitt,  try- 
ing to  locate  Pontiac. 

All  was  now  comparatively  quiet  around  Fort 
Cumberland.  To  the  southward,  a  small  band  of 
Indians  had  appeared  a  few  weeks  before  and  at- 
tacked some  white  and  colored  people,  carrying  two 
colored  girls,  slaves  of  a  Mr.  Bowman,  into  captiv- 
ity. To  the  northward,  the  enemy  had  fallen  on  a 
band  of  Moravians  while  at  their  devotions  and 
slaughtered  one  of  the  leaders  and  two  young 
women.  The  Moravians  were  very  bitter  and 
wanted  the  English  army  to  drive  the  red  men  to 
the  far  west,  beyond  the  Mississippi. 

Leaving  the  others  at  Fort  Cumberland,  Rodney 
took  the  horses  and  set  off  for  the  Morris  homestead, 
in  company  with  Barringford,  Nell,  and  the  twins. 


112  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

The  route  was  now  familiar  even  to  Nell,  and  she 
watched  eagerly  for  the  first  sign  of  the  cabin. 

"Papa !  I  see  papa !"  she  cried,  as  they  made  a 
turn  along  the  brook  road,  and  soon  they  saw  Joseph 
Morris  walking  toward  them,  rifle  in  hand,  for  none 
of  the  settlers  thought  of  going  out  without  being 
armed. 

"Rodney!  and  Nell!"  burst  from  Joseph  Morris's 
lips,  and  he  came  running  up  with  a  beaming  face. 
He  kissed  his  little  daughter  several  times.  "Glad 
you  are  back!  And  you  too,  Sam,"  he  added  to  the 
old  frontiersman.  "And  how  are  the  twins?"  and 
he  chucked  them  under  the  chin. 

"I  am  glad  to  be  back,"  said  Rodney.  "It  seems 
like  an  age  since  I  went  away  and  joined  the 
soldiers." 

They  did  not  stop  to  tell  their  story,  for  it  was 
only  a  step  more  to  the  log  cabin.  Mrs.  Morris,  the 
kindest  of  motherly  women,  came  rushing  out  of  the 
door  to  greet  them. 

"Nell,  my  Nell !"  she  burst  out,  and  hugged  her 
daughter  over  and  over  again,  while  the  tears  of  joy 
streamed  down  her  face.  "Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that 
you  are  back !" 

"And  I  am  glad  too,  mamma,"  said  Nell.  "Oh, 
it's  been  such  a  very,  very  long  time  since  the  Indians 
took  me !" 


HOME   ONCE   MORE  113 

"And  Rodney!"  went  on  Mrs.  Morris,  kissing  his 
sunburnt  cheek.  "How  did  you  stand  it?  Didn't 
the  old  lameness  bother  you?"  And  then  she 
hugged  the  twins  and  shook  hands  with  Sam  Bar- 
ringford.  It  was  indeed  a  happy  meeting  all 
around. 

"You  must  stay  home,  at  least  for  the  winter," 
said  Joseph  Morris  to  his  son.  "You  have  seen 
enough  of  peril  for  a  time." 

"I  am  willing  to  stay  home,"  said  Rodney.  "But 
I  think  I  ought  to  join  Uncle  Jim  and  Dave  and 
Henry  in  the  spring." 

He  told  all  the  news  that  evening,  sitting  around 
the  kitchen  fire,  and  Barringford  and  little  Nell  also 
told  their  tales.  The  old  frontiersman  wanted  to 
know  if  any  letter  had  come  from  England  regard- 
ing the  twins. 

"Nothing  as  yet,"  said  Joseph  Morris.  "But  it  is 
something  to  know  that  their  father's  name  is 
Maurice  Hamilton,  and  that  he  is  well-to-do.  Some 
day  we  shall  probably  hear  from  him." 

Much  about  the  homestead  had  been  destroyed  by 
the  Indians,  but  Joseph  Morris  had  worked  hard  to 
get  things  into  shape  again.  Family  stores  had 
been  brought  in,  from  Fort  Cumberland  and  from 
Annapolis,  and  the  settler  had  cut  a  pile  of  wood  for 
winter  use. 


114  TRAIL    AND    TRADING    POST 

"I  hope  all  goes  well  with  those  left  at  Fort  Pitt," 
said  Joseph  Morris.  "It  is  said  here  that  the 
Indians  are  very  bitter  out  there." 

"They  certainly  are,"  answered  Rodney. 

"It's  a  pity  Pontiac  was  not  slain.  He  is  the  head 
and  front  of  this  constant  fighting.  More  than 
likely  he  will  try  to  get  up  another  conspiracy  be- 
fore long." 

"Your  neighbor,  Jack  Spader,  just  told  me  some 
news,"  said  Sam  Barringford,  who  sat  on  the  door- 
step, taking  his  ease  in  the  sunshine.  "It  is  re- 
ported at  Fort  Cumberland  that  the  Indians  are 
going  to  make  another  attack  on  Fort  Pitt.  Nobody 
seems  to  know  where  the  report  started." 

"I  trust  it  is  not  true,"  replied  Rodney. 

"So  do  I,"  added  Mrs.  Morris,  "for  the  sake  of 
Henry,  and  your  uncle,  and  Cousin  Dave." 

"Well,  they  will  have  to  do  what  they  can  to  take 
care  of  themselves,"  said  Joseph  Morris.  "Perhaps 
we  shall  have  our  own  hands  full  here  this  winter. 
The  Indians  have  made  no  preparations  for  cold 
weather,  and  rather  than  starve  they  may  attack  us." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AN    OLD   ENEMY    APPEARS 

After  the  departure  of  Rodney,  Nell,  and  the 
twins  from  Fort  Pitt,  matters  at  that  stronghold 
went  along  smoothly  for  several  weeks.  Once  Dave 
and  Henry  went  out  hunting  with  Mr.  Morris,  and 
managed  to  secure  a  deer  and  some  smaller  game, 
but  that  was  all. 

In  the  meantime  the  meeting  that  Sir  William 
Johnson  had  arranged  with  the  Six  Nations  and 
other  tribes  of  Indians  from  upper  New  York  and 
from  Canada  came  to  a  conclusion.  Many  of  the 
red  men  agreed  to  keep  the  peace  and  some  even 
agreed  to  take  up  arms  against  the  Indians  of  the 
Mississippi  region,  being  offered  good  pay  for  this 
service.  But  others,  including  the  Senecas,  went 
away  murmuring,  saying  that  the  English  were  try- 
ing to  rob  them  of  their  lands  and  they  would  not 
submit  to  it.  Then  there  were  certain  bands,  like 
that  under  Moon  Eye,  that  had  become  absolutely 
lawless,  killing  and  plundering  whenever  the  op- 
portunity offered.     Some  of  these  bands  united  with 

115 


Il6  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

some  of  the  most  lawless  of  the  French,  especially 
those  who  held  isolated  trading  posts,  and  what  they 
did  to  make  life  miserable  for  the  frontiersmen  will 
be  told  later  on. 

The  coming  of  winter  in  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Pitt 
made  hunting  extra  good,  and  both  Dave  and  Henry 
urged  Mr.  Morris  to  go  out  again.  As  a  result  a 
party  of  five  was  organized,  the  two  others  being 
Tony  Jadwin  the  frontiersman  and  another  charac- 
ter well  known  to  my  old  readers,  Peaceful  Jones, 
who  had  fought  so  bravely  when  the  Morrises  had 
defended  their  trading  post  the  season  previous. 

The  party  took  along  something  in  the  way  of  a 
camping  outfit  and  expected  to  be  gone  at  least  three 
days.  Although  he  did  not  tell  those  at  the  fort, 
James  Morris  decided  to  push  westward,  to  note  if 
the  way  was  clear,  so  he  might  start  for  his  trading 
post  in  the  spring. 

The  first  day  out  the  party  got  on  the  trail  of  a 
whole  herd  of  deer.  But  something  scared  the  timid 
creatures,  and  they  bounded  away  to  the  westward, 
through  a  thick  snow  that  was  falling  at  the  time. 

"Oh,  we  must  get  some  of  those  deer!"  cried 
Henry.     "We  can't  afford  to  miss  them  !" 

"Well,  we'll  get  them  if  the  falling  snow  doesn't 
put  us  off  the  trail,"  answered  his  uncle. 

But  the  snow  continued  to  come  down  heavily, 


AN   OLD   ENEMY   APPEARS  \\J 

and  by  nightfall  the  chase  had  to  be  abandoned,  at 
least  for  the  time  being.  They  went  into  camp 
between  the  hemlocks,  finding  a  comfortable  shelter 
under  some  thick,  snow-laden  branches. 

"I  wonder  if  there  are  any  Indians  around?"  re- 
marked Dave,  while  they  were  eating  supper.  "I 
hope  not." 

"It  is  possible  some  of  them  may  be  out  hunting 
like  ourselves,"  answered  his  father.  "Somebody 
will  have  to  stand  guard." 

But  the  night  passed  without  interruption.  In 
the  morning  it  began  to  snow  once  more,  and  this 
time  so  furiously  that  they  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

"Hunting  is  all  out  of  the  question  in  sech  a  storm 
as  this,"  said  Tony  Jadwin,  with  a  deep  sigh.  "No 
game  stirring,  onless  it's  a  rabbit,  an'  they  ain't  wuth 
wastin'  powder  an'  shot  on." 

The  snow  kept  up  until  noon  and  was  then  over  a 
foot  in  depth.  But  after  that  the  sun  came  out, 
making  the  landscape  dazzling  white. 

The  party  was  coming  out  of  a  heavy  stretch  of 
timber  when  James  Morris  called  a  sudden  halt.  At 
a  distance  could  be  seen  the  smoke  of  a  campfire. 

"Must  be  Injuns,"  was  Peaceful  Jones's  com- 
ment. 

A  brief  consultation  was  held,  and  Tony  Jadwin 
took  it  on  himself  to  go  forward  and  investigate. 


Il8  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

He  skirted  the  clearing  and  passed  among  the  trees, 
and  that  was  the  last  the  others  saw  of  him  for  a 
full  half-hour. 

"Got  news  fer  ye,"  he  said,  to  James  Morris,  on 
returning.     "Powerful  news,  too." 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  the  trader,  quickly. 

"Who  do  ye  reckon  I  see  over  yonder?" 

"Some  Indians?" 

"Yes,  a  handful.  But  thet  ain't  all.  I  see  thet 
good-fer-nuthin'  Frenchman  thet  made  so  much 
trouble  fer  ye  fer  years." 

"What,  you  don't  mean  Jean  Bevoir!"  broke  in 
Dave. 

"Thet's  exactly  the  pusson  I  do  mean." 

"I  shouldn't  think  he'd  dare  to  show  his  face 
around  here,"  said  Henry.  "He  must  know  that  if 
he  is  captured  it  will  go  hard  with  him." 

"An'  thet  ain't  the  whole  o'  it,"  went  on  Tony 
Jadwin.  "Do  ye  remember  thet  Frenchman  as  run 
away  from  Fort  Pitt — the  feller  thet  had  somethin' 
to  do  with  stealing'  them  twins?" 

"You  mean  Benoit  Vascal?"  asked  the  trader. 

"Yes.  Wall,  he's  thar  too,  an'  he  an'  Bevoir 
seem  to  be  putty  thick,  ez  near  ez  I  kin  figger  it." 

"Father,  we  ought  to  try  to  capture  'em  both!" 
burst  out  Dave. 

"That's  the  talk,"   said   Henry.     "Why,   it  will 


AN    OLD    ENEMY   APPEARS  II9 

never  be  safe  around  the  trading  post  as  long  as 
Jean  Bevoir  is  at  large.  He  will  incite  other  French- 
men and  also  Indians  to  do  us  harm." 

"Who  else  is  in  the  party?"  asked  James  Morris 
of  Jadwin. 

"Two  other  Frenchmen — trappers  who  used  to 
help  Bevoir — and  about  a  dozen  Injuns — the  crowd 
that  used  to  be  under  Flat  Nose." 

"Yes,  I  remember  that  crowd,"  said  Dave.  "They 
were  certainly  a  bloodthirsty  set." 

"Sixteen  all  told,"  mused  James  Morris.  "I  am 
afraid  they  are  too  many  for  us." 

"Perhaps  the  Indians  won't  fight,"  suggested 
Henry. 

"They'll  fight  right  enough,"  answered  Tony  Jad- 
win. "They  have  just  enough  rum  in  them  to  make 
'em  ugly.  I  think  Bevoir  had  been  supplyin'  'em 
with  liquor." 

"His  old  trick,"  murmured  Dave.  "And  it 
always  works — with  such  Indians  as  he  gets  to  aid 
him  in  his  dirty  work." 

The  matter  was  talked  over,  and  James  Morris 
said  he  would  take  a  look  at  the  enemy  himself. 
Dave  begged  to  be  taken  along,  and  his  parent  con- 
sented. 

It  was  an  easy  matter  to  follow  the  trail  Tony 
Jadwin  had  made.     Walking  through  the  snow,  they 


120  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

made  no  noise,  and  soon  reached  the  point  of  vant- 
age the  old  trapper  had  occupied.  They  found  the 
enemy  encamped  in  the  midst  of  a  patch  of  wood, 
with  some  rocks  on  one  side.  Stationing  themselves 
behind  the  rocks  they  readily  saw  and  heard  a  good 
deal  of  what  occurred. 

The  four  Frenchmen  spoke  in  French,  while  the 
Indians  used  their  native  language.  As  a  conse- 
quence, Dave  understood  but  little  of  what  was  said. 
But  Mr.  Morris  could  speak  French  fairly  well,  and 
understood  much  of  the  red  men's  dialect.  He 
took  in  every  word  that  reached  his  ears,  and  as  he 
listened  his  brow  darkened 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  the  talk  came  to  an  end,  and 
Indians  and  French  got  ready  to  move.  There  were 
four  horses  in  the  camp,  which  Jean  Bevoir  and  his 
countrymen  rode,  leaving  the  Indians  to  accompany 
them  on  foot.  Bevoir  was  scarred  from  his  wounds, 
and  limped  as  he  mounted  his  steed. 

"I  ought  to  put  a  bullet  through  that  rascal's 
head !"  whispered  James  Morris.  "He  is  not  worthy 
to  live." 

"If  they  discover  us  they  will  surely  kill  us, 
father,"  whispered  Dave,  in  return.  "They  can 
easily  track  us  through  the  snow.  Even  as  it  is,  they 
may  come  across  our  tracks  and  follow  us  up." 

"I  know  it,  Dave — and  I  shall  do  nothing  now." 


AN   OLD   ENEMY   APPEARS  121 

The  enemy  were  soon  on  their  way,  following 
what  was  a  trail  leading  to  the  far  west.  James 
Morris  saw  them  depart  with  a  darker  look  than 
ever  on  his  face. 

"The  rascals!  The  infamous  scoundrels!"  he 
cried,  when  he  dared  to  speak  in  louder  tones. 

"What  did  you  learn,  father?"  asked  the  son. 

"A  great  deal,  Dave.  Do  you  know  what  Jean 
Bevoir  intends  to  do?" 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea." 

"He  and  his  followers,  including  that  Benoit  Vas- 
cal,  are  going  to  join  forces  with  a  large  body  of 
Indians.  They  are  going  to  induce  other  French- 
men to  do  likewise,  if  they  can.  The  Indians  are 
to  aid  the  Frenchmen  in  an  attack  on  every  trading 
post  for  miles  around,  and  whenever  successful 
French  and  Indians  are  to  divide  the  plunder." 

"Well,  they  have  done  just  as  bad  things  before." 

"That  is  not  all.  If  the  other  Indians  are  finally 
subdued  Jean  Bevoir  is  to  take  charge  of  my  old  trad- 
ing post,  producing  a  paper  to  the  effect  that  I  once 
signed  over  all  my  rights  to  the  place  to  him.  To 
this  document  the  other  Frenchmen  will  affix  their 
names  as  witnesses." 

"Oh,  what  a  rascally  thing  to  do !" 

"In  return  for  aiding  Jean  Bevoir,  Benoit  Vascal 
is  also  to  receive  favors,"  went  on  James  Morris. 


122  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"Do  you  remember  the  papers  that  were  lost — those 
relating  to  Mr.  Maurice  Hamilton's  right  to  certain 
tracts  of  land  along  the  St.  Lawrence?" 

"Of  course." 

"Well,  Vascal  will  have  duplicates  made  and  have 
the  rights  transferred  to  himself,  the  others  being 
witnesses  to  this  instrument.  Thus,  they  will  cheat 
the  father  of  the  twins  out  of  his  property." 

"But  what  will  they  do  when  you  turn  up,  and 
when  Mr.  Hamilton  appears?" 

"That  is  the  most  dastardly  part  of  the  whole 
business.  They  are  either  going  to  poison  us  in 
secret  or  else  capture  us  and  turn  us  over  to  some 
Indians,  who,  for  a  consideration,  will  make  way 
with  us  in  such  a  fashion  that  the  authorities  will  be 
completely  baffled." 

"How  awful,  father!  How  can  a  man  like  Jean 
Bevoir  be  so  bloodthirsty?" 

"It  is  his  old  hatred  of  me  grown  more  bitter  day 
by  day.  He  hated  me  when  first  we  established  rival 
trading  posts,  and  now  he  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
the  English  winning  this  war  against  the  French 
and  Indians  and  see  me  getting  what  is  justly  my 
due." 

"And  what  do  you  intend  to  do  about  it?" 

"I  do  not  know  yet — I  must  think  the  matter  over, 
and  perhaps  I  will  consult  with  Captain  Ecuyer  and 


AN   OLD    ENEMY   APPEARS  1 23 

Colonel  Bouquet.  They  certainly  ought  to  know 
about  such  dastardly  plots  as  these." 

Mr.  Morris  and  Dave  rejoined  the  others,  and 
there  told  of  what  had  been  heard.  Peaceful  Jones, 
who  was  in  reality  a  most  pugnacious  trapper, 
wanted  to  attack  the  enemy  on  the  spot. 

"We  kin  mow  'em  all  down  afore  they  know 
what's  struck  'em,"  said  he.  "Come  on  in  an'  have 
a  shindy !" 

"I  will  not  risk  it — it  is  asking  too  much  of  you," 
answered  James  Morris.  "Were  it  necessary  it 
would  be  different.  Let  them  escape  for  the  time 
being.  Another  time  we  may  be  better  able  to  cope 
with  them." 

From  a  safe  distance  they  saw  the  Frenchmen  and 
the  Indians  move  along  the  trail  they  had  chosen. 
Soon  the  coming  of  night  hid  them  from  view. 
Dave  drew  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  wish  we  could  get  rid  of  Jean  Bevoir,"  he  said. 
"He  has  caused  us  so  much  trouble." 

"There  is  one  comfort,"  said  his  father,  with  a 
faint  smile.  "  'Forewarned  is  forearmed.'  I  know 
what  he  intends  to  do,  and  I  can  accordingly  lay  my 
plans  to  thwart  him." 

"Do  you  think  the  French  government  will  allow 
such  actions?" 

"Scarcely,  Dave — yet,  as  matters  stand  to-day,  he 


124  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

may  be  able  to  explain  matters  to  their  satisfaction. 
Remember,  at  the  present  time  all  Frenchmen  are 
very  bitter  against  the  English." 

"I  wish  we  could  capture  that  Benoit  Vascal.  I 
am  certain  he  can  tell  us  a  good  deal  more  about  the 
twins,  if  he  will  only  open  his  mouth." 

"Vascal  and  Bevoir  seem  to  be  tarred  with  the 
same  stick.  Both  are  rascals  and  will  do  anything  to 
get  hold  of  money.  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  before  we  have  seen  the  last  of 
them,"  concluded  James  Morris,  and  his  forecast 
was  correct,  as  later  events  amply  proved. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A    FIGHT    WITH    A    WOLVERINE 

The  whole  party  had  lost  much  of  their  interest 
in  the  hunt,  and  it  was  decided  to  return  to  Fort  Pitt 
without  delay.  They  went  into  camp  for  the  night 
at  the  spot  the  enemy  had  occupied. 

"It  is  going  to  be  cold  to-night,"  said  Tony  Jad- 
win,  and  his  words  proved  true.  A  keen,  penetrat- 
ing wind  started  up,  and  they  were  glad  enough  to 
crouch  as  close  to  the  fire  as  possible. 

After  an  early  breakfast  they  started  for  the  fort 
by  another  trail.  On  this  they  were  fortunate 
enough  to  come  across  three  deer,  caught  in  some- 
thing of  a  hollow  between  the  rocks.  Henry 
brought  one  of  the  animals  down  and  the  frontiers- 
men shot  the  others.  Later  on  Dave  got  a  shot  at 
some  partridges  and  brought  down  two  that  were 
plump  and  tender. 

"Well,  we  shall  not  go  back  empty-handed,"  said 
James  Morris. 

When  they  reached  the  fort  they  found  the  gar- 
rison on  strict  guard  duty.     A  report  had  come  in 

125 


126  TRAIL    AND    TRADING    POST 

from  the  northward  that  some  of  the  Six  Nations 
were  not  going  to  agree  on  peace,  but  were  march- 
ing to  reduce  the  stronghold.  The  report  was  false, 
but  it  kept  those  at  Fort  Pitt  on  the  watch  for  a  week. 

Captain  Ecuyer  listened  to  James  Morris's  story 
with  interest,  and  when  Colonel  Bouquet  came  in  he 
did  the  same. 

"I  do  not  see  what  can  be  done  at  present,"  said 
the  commandant  of  the  fort.  "I  cannot  send  any 
men  out  to  your  trading  post  this  winter.  It  may  be 
that  we  can  do  something  in  the  spring." 

This  was  what  Colonel  Bouquet  said  also,  and  the 
trader  had  to  accept  it  as  final.  But  the  delay  chafed 
him. 

"I  have  an  idea  of  making  my  way  to  the  post," 
said  he  to  his  son.  "I  know  it  will  not  be  a  very 
nice  trip  at  this  time  of  year,  but  I  would  like  to 
arrive  there  before  Jean  Bevoir  has  a  chance  to 
settle  down  and  make  himself  at  home." 

"If  you  go  of  course  you  will  take  me  along,"  re- 
turned Dave,  instantly. 

"No,  I  was  thinking  of  taking  only  two  or  three  of 
the  old  trappers.  You  see,  if  we  cannot  get  into  the 
post  we  shall  have  to  stay  in  the  forest  and  get  our 
living  as  best  we  can,  and  that  will  be  hard, — if  the 
winter  proves  a  severe  one." 

The  matter  was  talked  over  for  a  week,  but  noth- 


A   FIGHT   WITH   A   WOLVERINE  127 

ing  came  of  it  just  then.  But  at  the  end  of  the  next 
week  James  Morris  arranged  to  go  west,  taking 
Tony  Jadwin,  Peaceful  Jones,  and  a  trapper  named 
Pomeroy  with  him.  They  elected  to  go  on  foot,  tak- 
ing some  snowshoes  with  them.  Each  was  to  carry 
a  good  stock  of  provisions  and  also  plenty  of  am- 
munition. 

"If  we  get  into  the  post  and  have  no  further 
trouble,  I  will  send  Pomeroy  back  with  the  news  and 
also  with  a  letter  of  instructions,"  said  James  Morris. 

"And  supposing  you  can't  get  into  the  post?"  said 
Dave. 

"Then  we  may  stay  in  that  vicinity,  or  we  may 
come  back — just  as  I  think  best." 

"But  you  will  send  some  kind  of  word,  won't 
you?"  inquired  Henry. 

"Yes,  I  will  send  word  of  some  kind  before  the 
New  Year,"  answered  his  uncle. 

The  two  youths  saw  the  expedition  well  on  its 
way,  going  out  with  it  a  distance  of  three  miles. 
Then  came  an  affectionate  parting,  and  those  mov- 
ing to  the  west  were  lost  to  view  down  the  snowy 
forest  trail. 

"I  wish  I  was  going  along,"  said  Dave,  with  a 
deep  sigh. 

"The  same  here,  Dave,"  answered  his  cousin. 
"But  your  father  did  not  wish  it,  and  so  we  shall 


128  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

have  to  stay  at  the  fort.  I  hope  all  goes  well  with 
them." 

"Yes,  I  shouldn't  wish  father  to  fall  into  the 
clutches  of  Jean  Bevoir.  Oh,  how  I  despise  that 
rascal !" 

The  youths  had  decided  to  try  a  bit  of  hunting 
while  they  were  out.  Henry  led  the  way  into  the 
forest,  and  they  wandered  along  until  they  came  to 
the  tracks  of  some  wild  animal. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Dave. 

"It  stumps  me,"  answered  his  cousin.  "It  is  cer- 
tain not  the  track  of  a  deer." 

"Maybe  it's  a  bear,  or  a  buffalo." 

"I  don't  think  so.  But  whatever  it  is,  it  was 
carrying  something  in  its  mouth." 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Don't  you  see  the  occasional  dip  in  the  snow 
alongside  of  the  trail?  The  load  was  heavy  and 
sagged  down  at  times." 

"Shall  we  follow  the  trail  up?" 

"I'm  willing." 

The  trail  led  into  the  very  depths  of  the  great 
forest,  and  to  help  them  from  getting  lost  they  broke 
off  the  bushes  here  and  there,  thus  "blazing"  the 
trail  as  they  proceeded.  In  the  open  spaces  the 
wind  had  drifted  the  snow  quite  a  little,  but  where 
the  trail  led  the  walking-  proved  fairly  easy. 


A   FIGHT   WITH    A   WOLVERINE  1 29 

"The  animal  certainly  traveled  a  good  distance," 
remarked  Dave,  after  almost  a  mile  had  been 
covered. 

"We  are  coming  to  the  end  now,"  answered 
Henry,  whose  keen  eyes  took  in  every  detail  of  the 
trail. 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Don't  you  see  how  the  dips  increase?  That 
shows  the  load  was  growing  heavier.  The  steps 
are  shorter  too." 

"Henry,  it's  wonderful  how  you  notice  such 
things !" 

"Not  at  all.  I  only  keep  my  eyes  open,  that's  all. 
Now  we  had  better  keep  quiet,  or  we  may  scare  the 
game  away." 

After  that  they  proceeded  a  short  distance  further. 
Then  they  reached  a  clearing,  where  the  heavy  wind 
of  the  summer  previous  had  cut  down  several  of  the 
tallest  trees. 

"There  must  have  been  a  whirlwind  here,"  whis- 
pered Dave. 

"Hush,  the  trail  leads  under  that  mass  of 
piled-up  trees,"  returned  Henry.  "Got  your  gun 
ready?" 

"Yes." 

Dave  had  hardly  spoken  when  there  came  a  snarl 
from  under  the  mass  of  trees,  and  looking  down  both 


I30  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

young  hunters  saw  a  pair  of  gleaming  eyes  glaring 
hatefully  at  them. 

"It's  a  bear!"  cried  Dave. 

"No,  a  wolverine !"  burst  out  Henry.  "And  an 
ugly  one,  too.     Look  out  for  yourself." 

Henry  was  indeed  right;  it  was  a  wolverine  they 
had  trailed  to  its  lair — a  ferocious  beast,  sometimes 
known  as  a  glutton,  because  of  its  enormous  appetite 
for  meat.  The  wolverine  was  of  unusual  size,  with 
a  shaggy  body  of  brownish-black.  The  muzzle  was 
darker  than  the  rest  of  the  beast,  and  under  the 
throat  were  several  whitish  spots.  The  upper  lip 
hairs  were  long  and  coarse,  and  the  fangs  keener 
than  those  of  a  wolf. 

The  wolverine  had  been  feasting  on  the  carcass  of 
a  fox,  but  the  meal  had  evidently  not  sweetened  his 
temper.  Suddenly  he  turned  and  disappeared  from 
view  along  the  tree-branches. 

"He  has  gone,"  said  Dave. 

"Keep  your  eyes  open !"  shouted  Henry.  "He 
means  fight !     I  know  the  kind !" 

A  moment  passed  and  the  wolverine  reappeared, 
this  time  on  an  upper  limb  of  a  fallen  tree.  He  gave 
one  low  snarl  and  then  sprang  directly  for  Dave's 
throat. 

Crack !  It  was  Henry's  rifle  that  spoke  up.  The 
aim  was  a  hasty  one,  and  the  wolverine  was  hit  in 


A   FIGHT   WITH   A   WOLVERINE  131 

the  hind  quarters.  Dave  slipped  to  one  side,  and  the 
beast  landed  at  his  feet.  Then  Dave  stepped  back, 
to  get  a  shot,  but  the  beast  whirled  around  in  the 
snow  and  once  more  gained  the  shelter  of  his  lair. 

The  two  young  hunters  lost  no  time  in  retreating, 
but  Henry  kept  Dave  from  going  too  close  to  any 
bushes  in  the  vicinity. 

"You  can't  trust  a  wolverine,"  he  said.  "Load  up 
quick — and  keep  your  eyes  wide  open.  He  may  be 
at  our  backs  next." 

Dave  was  well  aware  of  their  danger.  He  had 
heard  of  a  hunter  being  killed  by  a  wolverine 
and  heard  Sam  Barringford  say  that  the  beast  was 
the  most  treacherous  of  animals.  If  cornered  a 
wolverine  will  often  fight  to  the  death,  no  matter 
what  the  odds.  It  has  been  known  to  attack  animals 
much  larger  than  itself. 

The  two  young  hunters  reloaded  with  speed  and 
kept  their  eyes  on  the  fallen  trees.  They  saw  a 
branch  move,  but  could  not  see  the  wolverine. 
Dave,  it  must  be  confessed,  began  to  grow  a  trifle 
nervous. 

"Do  you  see  him?"  he  asked,  after  fully  a  minute 
had  passed. 

"No,  but There  he  is !     Look  out !" 

The  wolverine  had  appeared  on  one  of  the  highest 
of  the  tree-branches.     He  made  a  lightning-like  leap 


132  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

and  gained  one  of  the  neighboring  trees.  Dave  took 
a  quick  shot,  but  missed  his  mark.  Then  the  body 
of  the  wolverine  was  hidden  by  the  broad  tree-limb. 

"Let  us  get  out  of  this,"  said  Dave.  "Before  we 
know  it,  one  of  us  will  get  hurt." 

"I  am  going  to  kill  that  wolverine,"  answered 
Henry,  determinedly,  all  his  hunting  instinct  on 
edge  over  what  had  already  occurred. 

"What's  the  use?     He  is  no  good  for  meat." 

"The  beast  is  not  going  to  get  the  better  of  me." 

Henry  walked  around  the  tree  with  care.  He  got 
a  slight  glimpse  of  the  wolverine's  bushy  tail,  but 
that  was  all. 

"Can  you  see  him,  Henry?" 

"I  know  where  he  is.  I  think  I  can  make  him 
move." 

Henry  picked  up  some  snow,  made  a  snowball, 
and  threw  it  at  the  bushy  tail.  There  was  a  snarl 
and  a  snap,  and  clown  into  the  snow  leaped  the 
wolverine,  all  ready  for  a  fight. 

As  soon  as  the  beast  landed  Dave  fired.  As  luck 
would  have  it,  the  wolverine  was  hit  in  the  side  and 
turned  over  and  over,  sending  the  snow  in  all 
directions. 

"I've  got  him!  I've  got  him!"  called  out  the 
young  hunter,  excitedly. 

"I  reckon  I'd  better  finish  him,"  answered  Henry, 


A  FIGHT   WITH   A   WOLVERINE  1 33 

and  once  again  his  rifle  spoke  up.  At  once  the 
whirling  of  the  wolverine  ceased,  and  he  stretched 
himself  out  on  the  snow. 

"My  gracious!  that  was  a  fight,"  observed  Dave, 
wiping  the  cold  perspiration  from  his  forehead.  "I 
don't  wonder  some  folks  think  there  is  nothing  so 
savage  as  a  wolverine." 

"We  want  to  be  on  guard  still,"  said  Henry. 
"Load  up.  His  mate  may  be  around  here,  and  they 
say  a  she-wolverine  is  ten  times  worse  than  a  he- 
one." 

"She'll  certainly  be  bad  enough  when  she  learns 
that  we  have  killed  her  mate." 

"We  may  as  well  give  up  hunting  around  here," 
went  on  Henry.  "Our  shots  have  probably  scared 
away  any  deer  that  may  be  in  this  vicinity." 

"We  can  look  for  small  game,  Henry.  I  don't 
want  to  go  back  empty-handed." 

"Listen!" 

The  two  young  hunters  were  reloading,  when 
Henry  uttered  the  exclamation. 

"What  did  you  hear?"  asked  Dave. 

"Sounded  to  me  like  a  wolf,  and  it  was  pretty 
close  too." 

"I  hope  we  don't  meet  any  wolves  in  this  forest !" 
cried  Dave. 

Both  listened,  and  soon  heard  three  more  wolves. 


134  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

They  were   coming  along  the  trail   made  by   the 
wolverine  and  the  youths. 

"I  see  them!  And  they  are  coming  directly  for 
us!"  cried  Dave,  a  minute  later,  and  as  he  spoke 
eight  or  nine  wolves  burst  into  view,  coming  for- 
ward on  a  run,  their  eyes  gleaming  and  their  fangs 
showing  viciously. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WOLVES,    AND    A    SNOWSTORM 

The  two  young  hunters  knew  from  former  ex- 
perience that  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  shoot 
down  so  many  wolves,  and  so  they  looked  around 
for  some  other  means  whereby  to  escape  from  the 
beasts,  who  were  evidently  hungry  and  blood- 
thirsty. 

"Into  one  of  the  trees !"  cried  Henry,  and  slung 
his  rifle  over  his  shoulder.  His  cousin  did  likewise, 
and  both  caught  hold  of  some  tree-limbs  just  as  the 
wolves  drew  near.  One  made  a  snap  at  them,  but 
they  managed  to  get  out  of  the  reach  of  the  animal 
before  any  damage  was  done. 

As  was  to  be  expected,  the  first  wolves  to  appear 
were  the  forerunners  of  a  pack,  and  soon,  to  the 
consternation  of  Dave  and  Henry,  more  of  the  beasts 
appeared  until  they  could  count  forty.  They 
snapped  and  snarled,  and  several  fell  upon  the  carcass 
of  the  wolverine  and  tore  it  into  pieces. 

"That's  the  way  they'd  like  to  tear  us  into  bits," 
remarked  Dave,  with  a  shudder  over  the  sight. 

135 


136  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"Dave,  no  two  ways  about  it,  we  are  in  a  pickle." 

"And  likely  to  stay  there  for  some  time  to  come, 
Henry." 

"That's  the  truth  of  it.  Trying  to  shoot  such  a 
pack  is  utterly  impossible." 

"And  I  doubt  if  we  can  drive  'em  away  either." 

Just  to  try  the  effects  of  a  shot,  both  took  careful 
aim,  each  at  a  big  wolf.  The  beasts  went  down,  one 
killed  outright  and  the  other  mortally  wounded. 
The  rest  of  the  pack  retreated  for  a  few  minutes, 
then  came  forward  as  before. 

"See,  they  are  eating  up  the  dead  one !"  said 
Henry,  and  it  was  true.  The  carcass  was  hauled 
and  pulled  and  torn  apart,  the  wolves  fighting 
greedily  over  the  pieces.  The  wounded  wolf 
crawled  off  in  the  snow  and  later  followed  the  fate  of 
the  other. 

After  firing  the  two  shots  the  young  hunters  re- 
loaded as  before  and  sat  down  among  the  tree- 
branches  to  consider  the  situation.  It  was  about 
noon,  and  both  were  hungry. 

"We  are  fortunate  in  having  some  rations  along," 
remarked  Dave.  "But  it  will  be  dry  eating,  without 
a  drink  of  water." 

However,  they  ate  their  meal,  taking  their  time, 
as  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do.  In  the  mean- 
time, the  wolves  sat  around  the  tree  in  a  wide  circle, 


WOLVES,   AND   A   SNOWSTORM  1 37 

watching  them  intently.  There  would  be  a  spell  of 
silence,  then  one  of  the  number  would  growl  or  snap 
and  in  a  moment  the  whole  pack  would  be  at  it. 
Then  another  silence  would  follow. 

"This  is  certainly  growing  interesting,"  observed 
Dave,  as  he  swallowed  the  last  of  his  food.  "I'd 
give  a  sixpence  for  a  drink  of  water." 

"And  two  shillings  to  have  the  wolves  go  away," 
added  Henry,  with  a  grin.  "Dave,  perhaps  we  are 
booked  to  stay  here  all  night." 

"It  will  be  a  cold  roosting-place.  As  it  is  I  am 
pretty  cold." 

To  keep  warm  they  slapped  their  arms  across  their 
chests,  and  hammered  their  heels  against  the  tree- 
trunk.  In  doing  this  Dave  suddenly  slipped  and 
fell. 

"Look  out !"  cried  his  cousin,  and  made  a  clutch  at 
him.  Both  went  down,  one  on  one  side  of  a  limb 
and  one  on  the  other.  Henry  had  Dave  by  the  arm, 
and  there  they  hung  for  a  moment,  with  the  wolves 
below,  leaping  up  and  snapping  as  never  before. 

"Don't  let  go !"  shrieked  Dave,  who  had  no  desire 
to  fall  among  those  snapping  jaws  waiting  to  receive 
him. 

Henry  clung  fast,  although  it  was  no  easy  matter 
to  sustain  his  cousin  in  such  an  unusual  position. 
His  wrist  was  twisted  painfully.     Then  each  caught 


138  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

the  limb  with  his  free  hand,  and  they  both  swung  up 
to  safety  once  more. 

"That  was  a  narrow  squeak !"  gasped  Dave.  "I 
thought  the  wolves  had  me  sure.  I  hope  you  didn't 
get  hurt,  Henry." 

"Got  my  wrist  scraped  a  little,  that's  all,"  was  the 
reply.  "But  please  don't  slip  down  again.  Where's 
your  gun  ?" 

Dave  felt  around  in  dismay.  Then  he  looked  be- 
low. The  strap  had  broken  and  the  weapon  lay  in 
the  snow  among  the  wolves. 

"You'll  not  do  any  more  shooting  just  yet,"  went 
on  Henry,  grimly. 

"It's  too  bad!"  cried  Dave.  "The  strap  wasn't 
very  good,  but  I  thought  it  would  hold  for  this  trip. 
Look  out  that  yours  doesn't  drop,  Henry." 

"I'll  try  to  keep  it  on  hand." 

Once  again  there  came  a  period  of  waiting.  So 
far  it  had  been  clear,  but  now  it  commenced  to  cloud 
over. 

"We  are  going  to  have  either  snow  or  rain,"  an- 
nounced Dave. 

"Well,  of  the  two  I  hope  it  is  snow,"  said  Henry. 
"I  don't  want  to  get  wet  through  in  such  cold 
weather  as  this.     It  will  give  us  our  death  of  cold." 

A  little  while  after  that  it  began  to  snow.  At 
first  the  flakes  were  large  and  drifted  down  like  so 


WOLVES,   AND   A   SNOWSTORM  1 39 

many  feathers.  But  soon  they  grew  smaller  and 
came  down  so  thickly  that  a  large  portion  of  the 
landscape  was  blotted  out.  Then  a  wind  sprung  up, 
making  the  situation  of  the  young  hunters  anything 
but  comfortable. 

"The  wolves  are  leaving !"  cried  Henry,  presently, 
as  an  extra  blast  of  wind  sent  the  snow  swirling 
around.  "They  don't  like  this  storm.  Reckon 
they  are  afraid  of  being  snowed  in." 

"I  don't  like  the  storm  myself,"  returned  his 
cousin.  "See  how  thickly  the  snow  is  coming  down 
now." 

Soon  the  last  of  the  wolves  had  disappeared  and 
silence  reigned  in  that  part  of  the  vast  forest.  With 
caution  they  let  themselves  down  to  the  ground,  and 
Dave  picked  up  his  gun,  cleaned  it,  and  put  on  a  new 
priming. 

"We'll  have  to  watch  out  for  those  wolves,"  he 
cautioned. 

"If  they  come  for  us,  we  can  climb  another  tree," 
answered  Henry.  "But  I  don't  think  they  will  turn 
back.  Their  lair  may  be  miles  from  here,  and  they 
will  want  to  get  there  before  they  become  snow- 
bound." 

The  falling  snow  had  covered  the  wolverine  trail, 
and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  they  could  see  the 
bushes  they  had  broken  off  while  journeying  along. 


140  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

It  was  growing  darker  and  the  snow  swirled  and 
blew  in  every  direction,  almost  blinding  them. 

"This  will  delay  father,"  observed  Dave.  "The 
party  will  have  to  go  into  camp  and  stay  there  until 
the  storm  clears  away." 

"We  may  have  to  go  into  camp  ourselves,  Dave." 

"Perhaps  so.  This  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  time 
Sam  Barringford  and  I  were  journeying  to  Fort 
Oswego,  and  got  caught  in  a  terrible  storm — the 
time  we  got  a  bear." 

"You  were  after  Jean  Bevoir  then,  weren't  you?" 

"Yes,  we  thought  he  had  Nell  as  a  prisoner.  My, 
but  that  was  a  howler,  Henry!" 

"Well,  this  is  going  to  be  a  howler,  too !  Listen 
to  the  wind  rising!" 

There  was  no  need  to  listen,  for  they  could  not 
have  shut  out  the  sound  had  they  tried.  The  flakes 
of  snow  had  given  way  to  fine,  hard  particles  resem- 
bling salt,  and  these  pelted  them  in  the  face  until  they 
could  not  see  and  had  to  turn  around  to  catch  their 
breath. 

"May  as  well  give  it  up,"  said  Henry,  after  strug- 
gling along  for  almost  a  mile.  "Let  us  find  some 
place  under  the  cedars." 

They  had  reached  a  spot  where  the  cedars  were 
plentiful,  and  picked  out  one  with  the  lower  boughs 
bent  down  to  the  ground.     Getting  under  this  they 


WOLVES,   AND   A   SNOWSTORM  14I 

were  sheltered  from  the  biting  wind,  and  had  a 
chance  to  rest  and  consider  the  situation. 

"One  thing  is  certain,  I  don't  want  to  stay  out  all 
night  without  something  to  eat  and  without  a  fire," 
said  Henry,  who  loved  all  the  comforts  of  a  hunter's 
life.  "We  must  find  a  better  shelter  than  this. 
We  can't  start  a  blaze  here  without  the  danger  of 
setting  fire  to  the  forest." 

"I'm  willing  to  go  anywhere,  providing  it  isn't  too 
far,"  answered  Dave. 

Having  rested  for  half  an  hour  they  started  on- 
ward once  more.  They  soon  reached  a  spot  that 
looked  familiar  to  both  of  them. 

"Hurrah!  I  know  where  we  are  now!"  cried 
Dave. 

"So  do  I,  and  I  know  where  we  can  find  a  pretty 
good  shelter,"  added  Henry. 

He  referred  to  what  had  once  been  an  Indian 
village,  long  before  the  French  and  English  had 
come  to  that  territory.  Here,  among  the  ruins,  was 
located  an  old  council-house,  of  logs  and  bark,  with 
a  sort  of  fireplace  at  one  end. 

"At  the  old  Indian  village?" 

"Yes." 

They  hurried  on,  for  it  was  now  growing  night. 
Both  had  their  guns  over  their  backs,  but  presently 
Henry  swung  his  weapon  around  to  the  front. 


142  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"Maybe  we'll  be  able  to  pick  up  something  for 
supper  and  breakfast,"  he  observed. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  reach  the  deserted  village. 
Nothing  was  standing  but  the  old  council-house,  and 
that  was  next  to  being  a  wreck.  As  they  stepped 
over  the  threshold  they  saw  something  hop  away 
through  an  open  doorway  on  the  other  side. 
Quickly  Henry  blazed  away. 

"A  rabbit,  and  a  fat  one  too !"  he  cried,  holding  up 
the  game.     "That  is  better  than  nothing." 

They  stirred  around  and  soon  found  a  nest  of  the 
animals  and  killed  two  more.  Then  they  put  down 
their  guns  and  went  out  to  find  some  firewood.  It 
was  cold  work,  and  they  were  half  frozen  by  the  time 
they  had  a  blaze  started.  They  piled  on  several  big 
sticks  of  wood  and  soon  began  to  warm  up. 

"This  is  not  so  bad  but  that  it  might  be  worse," 
declared  Dave,  while  they  were  preparing  one  of  the 
rabbits  for  supper. 

Searching  around  they  came  across  a  small  iron 
pot.  It  was  rusty,  but  they  managed  to  scour  it  out, 
and  then  melted  some  snow  for  drinking  water. 
One  rabbit  tasted  so  good  that  they  cooked  a  second, 
for  the  walk  and  the  keen  air  had  made  them 
tremendously  hungry.  They  took  their  time  over 
the  meal,  for  they  had  nothing  else  to  do. 

"I  think  I'll  try  to  close  up  some  of  the  openings," 


WOLVES,   AND   A   SNOWSTORM  I43 

remarked  Henry,  after  they  had  finished  picking  the 
bones.     "We  can  do  it  with  cedar  branches." 

With  their  hunting  knives  they  cut  a  quantity  of 
cedar  branches  and  placed  them  in  the  broken-out 
doors  and  windows  of  the  old  council-house.  This 
kept  out  most  of  the  wind,  and  soon  the  temperature 
rose  so  that  it  was  far  more  comfortable  within 
than  before.  Then  they  brought  in  some  more 
wood  for  the  fire,  that  the  blaze  might  last  through 
the  night. 

"I  suppose  this  was  a  well-known  place  at  one 
time,"  observed  Dave,  as  he  gazed  around  the  struc- 
ture. "What  famous  addresses  the  Indian  chiefs 
must  have  delivered  here !" 

"Yes,  and  what  plans  they  laid  to  massacre  the 
whites,"  replied  Henry.  "If  these  walls  could  talk 
they  could  tell  some  cruel  stories,  I'm  thinking." 

"Henry,  I  don't  think  the  Indians  are  altogether 
to  blame." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  they  haven't  been  treated  just  right, 
that's  why.     The  land  used  to  belong  to  them." 

"Humph!  They  never  tilled  it,  did  they?  They 
can't  expect  to  let  this  fine  soil  lie  in  idleness  for 
century  after  century." 

"But  they  had  rights  which  neither  the  French 
nor  the  English  have  respected." 


144  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"Do  you  stick  up  for  such  a  wily  wretch  as  Pon- 
tiac?" 

"No,  but  I  stick  up  for  such  a  noble  reel  man  as 
White  Buffalo." 

"Oh,  well,  if  they  were  all  like  White  Buffalo 
there  wouldn't  be  any  trouble." 

They  sat  by  the  fire  a  good  hour,  talking  about 
the  Indians,  the  departure  of  James  Morris  for  the 
trading  post,  and  about  the  folks  at  home  and  other 
matters.  Then  they  grew  sleepy,  and  lay  down  to 
rest,  never  realizing  the  double  peril  so  close  at 
hand. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SAVED    BY    A    WINDSTORM 

The  two  young  hunters  had  been  asleep  perhaps 
ten  minutes  when  a  form  stole  forward  from  behind 
a  corner  post  in  the  old  council-house. 

The  form  was  that  of  a  young  Seneca  warrior, 
Boka  the  Fox,  a  red  man  known  for  miles  around  for 
his  skill  in  hunting  and  fishing.  No  matter  who 
went  out  with  him  Boka  the  Fox  usually  got  the 
biggest  turkey,  the  biggest  deer,  and  very  often  the 
biggest  fish. 

Boka  the  Fox  was  alone.  He  had  been  spying  in 
the  vicinity  of  Fort  Pitt,  and  was  now  on  his  way 
westward  to  report  what  he  had  seen.  The  storm 
had  overtaken  him,  and  fancy  had  caused  him  to 
seek  shelter  in  the  deserted  village.  He  had  come 
up  just  at  the  arrival  of  Dave  and  Henry  and  had 
heard  the  gunshots  when  the  rabbits  were  brought 
down. 

Despite  the  snowstorm,  Boka  the  Fox  waited 
around  patiently  for  some  chance  to  do  the  whites  an 
injury.     He  had  only  his  hunting  knife  with  him — 

145 


I46  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

a  weapon  taken  from  a  murdered  frontiersman  some 
months  before.  His  bow  had  been  broken  the  day 
before  and  his  tomahawk  had  been  lost  during  a 
wild  flight  to  get  away  from  some  soldiers  who  had 
seen  him  on  the  trail  and  fired  several  shots  after  his 
retreating  form. 

Not  to  remain  out  in  the  howling  storm — for  the 
wind  was  growing  wilder  every  moment — Boka  the 
Fox  had  wormed  his  way  into  a  small  recess  close 
to  the  rude  fireplace  of  which  this  council-house 
boasted.  I  say  boasted,  for  the  majority  of  such 
places  had  only  an  open  place  where  a  fire  might  be 
built,  the  smoke  rising  directly  to  the  outer  air. 

In  his  warm  corner  the  red  warrior  waited 
patiently  for  Dave  and  Henry  to  go  to  sleep. 
Several  times  he  was  in  danger  of  being  discovered, 
and  he  kept  his  hand  on  the  handle  of  his  knife,  ready 
to  battle  the  instant  he  was  seen.  He  heard  every 
word  that  was  spoken,  but  understood  only  a 
little. 

The  wind  was  now  whistling  shrilly  around  the 
old  council-house,  causing  the  dilapidated  building  to 
creak  and  groan  and  quiver  from  end  to  end.  With 
so  much  noise,  Boka  the  Fox  stepped  forward  boldly 
to  the  center  of  the  room.  The  fire  was  still  bright, 
and  he  could  distinctly  see  the  faces  of  the  two 
youths  as  they  slept. 


"Boka  must   kill  both  before   either   awakens,"  murmured 
the  Indian.  —  Page  147. 


SAVED   BY  A   WINDSTORM  I47 

"Boka  must  kill  both  before  either  awakens,"  mur- 
mured the  Indian  in  his  native  tongue.  "Then  he 
can  take  their  guns  and  all  of  their  belongings  and 
fly  as  soon  as  the  storm  ceases." 

He  dropped  the  blanket  he  had  been  wearing,  so 
that  he  might  be  free  to  act,  and  draw  himself  up, 
knife  in  hand, — a  tall,  slim  figure,  with  a  face  full  of 
shrewdness  and  treachery. 

As  he  took  a  step  towards  Dave  the  wind  came 
up  once  more,  shaking  the  old  building  worse  than 
ever.  Henry  turned  uneasily  in  his  sleep,  and  gave 
a  deep  sigh.  The  Indian  turned  toward  the  youth, 
thinking  to  kill  him  before  he  had  a  chance  to  rouse 
up. 

There  was  now  a  sudden  spell  of  silence — so  un- 
usual and  so  impressive  that  the  Indian  was  com- 
pelled to  stop  in  his  dastardly  work  and  listen.  It 
was  as  if  the  wind  had  ceased  utterly. 

Then,  with  almost  the  quickness  of  lightning, 
came  a  strange  humming  sound,  accompanied  by  the 
cracking  of  trees  and  tree-limbs,  and  the  fierce  pelt- 
ing of  hard  snow  as  it  swept  along  on  the  wings  of  a 
tornado.  The  onrush  of  the  elements  was  directly 
for  the  old  council-house,  and  in  a  twinkling  the 
building  was  caught  up  and  fairly  blown  into  the 
air. 

"Henry!"  gasped  Dave,  as  he  found  himself  rolled 


I48  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

over  and  over  in  the  snow.  "What  in  the  world  is 
this?" 

There  was  no  answer — indeed,  no  answer  could 
have  been  heard  above  that  terrible  shrieking  and 
humming  of  the  wind.  In  the  path  of  the  tornado 
the  trees  were  being  mowed  down  from  one  end  of 
the  forest  to  the  other.  Branches  were  flying  in  all 
directions,  and  when  Dave  tried  to  rise  he  found 
himself  powerless  to  do  so.  He  was  rolled  over  and 
over  again,  and  at  last  brought  up  against  a  tree- 
stump,  out  of  breath  and  completely  bewildered. 

Inside  of  five  minutes  the  tornado  was  a  thing  of 
the  past  and  the  wind  died  down  to  a  moderate 
breeze.  The  fire  that  had  been  built  in  the  old 
council-house  had  been  blown  in  a  heap  between  two 
old  tree-stumps  and  was  still  blazing  away,  thus 
affording  some  light.  Where  the  two  youths  had 
been  sleeping  were  half  a  dozen  broken  and  twisted 
tree-limbs,  partly  covered  with  snow. 

It  took  Dave  some  little  time  to  recover  his 
breath.  He  had  to  feel  of  himself,  to  make  sure 
that  no  limbs  were  broken.  He  looked  around  for 
Henry,  but  his  cousin  was  nowhere  in  sight. 

"Henry!"  he  called,  loudly.  "Where  are  you? 
Henry !" 

He  repeated  the  cry  many  times,  walking  slowly 
around  the  wreck  of  the  council-house  and  among 


SAVED   BY   A   WINDSTORM  1 49 

the  trees  which  had  been  blown  down  in  that  vicinity. 
At  last  came  a  faint  response,  and  running  in  the 
direction  of  the  sound  he  found  poor  Henry  wedged 
under  some  heavy  tree-branches. 

"Tak — take  them  off!"  gasped  the  prisoner.  "I 
— I  can  hardly  breathe." 

To  remove  the  big  limbs  was  impossible,  but  after 
a  good  deal  of  maneuvering,  Dave  managed  to  raise 
one  branch  a  little  and  Henry  crawled  through  the 
snow  from  underneath.  Then  he  sat  on  the  branch 
panting  for  breath. 

"It's  a  windstorm,"  said  Dave.  "About  the  worst 
I  ever  saw." 

"Whe — where  is  the  house?" 

"Gone — the  wind  took  it  up  like  a  kite.  Henry, 
we  can  be  thankful  that  we  weren't  killed." 

"You  are  right.     Oh,  how  my  breast  hurts !" 

"Any  ribs  broken,  do  you  think  ?" 

"No,  I  think  I — I  am  scraped  more  than  anything 
else,"  answered  the  injured  one. 

As  the  fire  was  in  a  safe  place,  Dave  stirred  it  up 
and  helped  Henry  to  a  spot  where  he  might  keep 
warm.  Then  Dave  dragged  some  tree-branches  up 
in  a  semicircle,  to  keep  off  what  little  was  left  of  the 
wind. 

"We'll  have  to  look  for  our  guns  and  traps,"  said 
Henry.     "Have  you  any  idea  where  they  are?" 


I50  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"They  can't  be  far  off,  Henry.  But  why  not  wait 
until  morning?" 

"It's  not  safe.  Some  wild  animal  might  attack 
us." 

Taking  a  firebrand  Dave  made  a  torch  of  it  and 
began  a  hunt.  Soon  he  came  across  Henry's  rifle 
and  other  things.  Then  he  brought  out  of  the  snow 
a  hunting  knife. 

"Hullo !  Whose  hunting  knife  is  this  ?"  he  asked, 
examining  it  carefully.  "Henry,  you  didn't  have 
this,  did  you?" 

"I  did  not,"  was  the  answer.  "I  never  saw  it 
before.  Let  me  see.  It's  got  the  initials  R.  D.  C. 
on  it.  I  don't  know  anybody  by  those  letters,  do 
you?" 

"Old  Dick  Capenfeld.  He  was  killed  by  the 
Indians  several  weeks  ago." 

"I'd  like  to  know  how  the  knife  got  here." 

The  young  hunters  looked  the  blade  over,  and 
then  both  sat  down  by  the  fire.  Presently  Henry 
feel  asleep  once  more,  and  after  a  bit  Dave  followed 
his  example. 

When  they  awoke  it  was  dawn,  and  the  storm 
had  cleared  away  completely.  The  fire  had  died 
down,  but  it  was  easily  replenished,  and  then  both 
of  the  youths  began  a  systematic  hunt  for  the  rest 
of  their  belongings.     Henry  declared  that  he  felt 


SAVED    BY   A   WINDSTORM  I  5  I 

all  right,  saving  for  a  certain  stiffness  across 
the  chest,  where  the  tree-limb  had  held  him 
down. 

Dave  was  stirring  among  some  heavy  tree- 
branches  when  he  leaped  back  with  a  loud  cry. 

"An  Indian!" 

"An  Indian !  Where  ?"  came  from  Henry,  and 
he  caught  up  his  rifle. 

"Here — between  the  tree-limbs.  I — I  reckon  he 
is  dead." 

Henry  ran  to  the  spot,  and  both  of  the  young 
hunters  gazed  at  Boka  the  Fox.  The  tornado  had 
caught  up  the  Indian  and  landed  him  head-first  in 
the  branches  of  a  tree  laid  low  by  the  mighty  wind. 
In  turning  over  the  red  warrior  had  been  unable  to 
save  himself,  and  his  neck  had  been  broken,  killing 
him  instantly. 

"This  beats  the  kingdom !"  cried  Dave.  "Henry, 
that  Indian  must  have  been  on  hand  when  the  tor- 
nado occurred!" 

"Like  as  not  he  was  watching  us." 

"And  maybe  he  was  going  to  kill  us." 

"The  finding  of  that  hunting  knife  makes  it  look 
that  way,  Dave." 

"Perhaps  there  are  more  near  by." 

The  two  young  hunters  looked  around  without 
delay — Henry    holding    his    rifle    ready    for    use, 


152  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

should  a  warrior  appear.  They  were  greatly  upset 
and  did  not  quiet  down  for  half  an  hour. 

"He  must  have  been  alone,"  said  Henry,  at  last. 
"Where  he  came  from  there  is  no  telling.  Well, 
if  he  was  going  to  kill  us,  it  was  a  lucky  thing 
that  the  tornado  came  along  as  it  did  and  stopped 
him." 

They  continued  their  search  in  the  snow  and 
among  the  fallen  trees,  and  presently  uncovered 
Dave's  rifle  and  the  rest  of  the  traps,  and  also  the 
last  of  the  rabbits.  This  they  spitted  over  the  fire 
and  ate  for  breakfast. 

"Now  we  may  as  well  get  back  to  the  fort — 
before  another  storm  overtakes  us,"  said  Henry. 

"What  about  the  Indian?" 

"Leave  him  where  he  is.  I  reckon  the  wolves  will 
take  care  of  him.  I  am  not  going  to  bother  myself 
on  his  account." 

"I  hope  the  tornado  didn't  overtake  father  and  his 
party,"  went  on  Dave.  "It's  a  wonder  we  weren't 
killed." 

"Yes,  we  can  certainly  be  thankful, — not  only 
because  we  escaped  from  the  windstorm,  but  for  es- 
caping from  that  Indian." 

The  wind  had  swept  the  snow  into  great  drifts  or 
ridges,  and  they  knew  they  would  have  to  make  wide 
detours  in  order  to  escape  the  worst  of  these  piles. 


SAVED   BY  A   WINDSTORM  1 53 

They  kicked  out  the  fire,  picked  up  their  traps  and 
the  blanket  of  the  dead  Indian,  and  set  out. 

It  was  a  hard,  exhausting  journey,  and  they  often 
stopped  to  rest.  On  their  way  they  saw  in  the  dis- 
tance a  small  deer,  stalled  in  a  snowdrift,  and  Henry 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  fire.  The  deer 
leaped  into  the  air,  threw  up  a  flurry  of  snow,  and 
then  disappeared  from  view. 

"There's  something  to  take  to  the  fort !"  cried  the 
young  hunter. 

"It  will  be  all  we  can  carry,"  observed  Dave. 

"What !  you  wouldn't  leave  a  deer  behind,  would 
you?"  questioned  Henry,  reproachfully. 

"Oh,  no." 

With  care  they  worked  their  way  around  to  where 
the  deer  had  disappeared  in  the  snow.  To  do  this 
they  had  to  cross  a  hollow,  where  they  sank  up  to 
their  waists. 

"Look  out,  or  you'll  get  stuck!"  sang  out  Dave, 
and  just  then  Henry  sank  to  his  armpits.  He 
floundered  around  a  good  deal  before  he  emerged 
from  the  hollow,  blowing  like  a  winded  ox. 

The  deer  had  fallen  over  a  small  cliff,  and  they  had 
something  of  a  task  raising  it  up.  But  at  last  they 
had  the  game  secure,  and  they  carried  it  between 
them,  slung  on  a  long,  slender  pole. 

"Hurrah!     I  see  the  fort!"  cried  Dave,  an  hour 


154  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

later,  as  they  drew  to  the  top  of  a  long  hill.     "The 
worst  of  the  trip  is  over." 

He  was  right,  and  by  noon  they  reached  Fort  Pitt. 
They  were  glad  to  rest  and  eat  a  hearty  dinner,  after 
which  they  told  their  story.  The  effects  of  the 
windstorm  had  been  felt  at  the  fort,  but  no  great 
damage  had  been  done. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    JOURNEY    TO    THE    TRADING    POST 

Leaving  Dave  and  Henry  at  Fort  Pitt,  let  us  shift 
the  scene  further  westward  and  note  how  James 
Morris  and  his  party  fared  on  their  way  towards 
the  trading  post  on  the  Ohio  River. 

The  party  felt  the  full  effects  of  the  snowstorm, 
and  had  to  go  into  a  temporary  camp.  The  wind, 
however,  hardly  touched  them,  and  they  were  left  in 
ignorance  of  the  great  damage  done  in  other  direc- 
tions. 

"'Tis  lucky  we  brought  our  snowshoes  with  us," 
said  Peaceful  Jones.  "With  such  a  fall,  most  of  our 
traveling  will  have  to  be  with  the  shoes  on." 

They  had  gone  into  camp  under  some  overhang- 
ing rocks,  where  a  big  fire  had  kept  them  warm. 
The  old  trappers  had  brought  down  a  deer  and  some 
rabbits,  so  they  did  not  suffer  for  the  want  of  food, 
having  brought  along  two  slabs  of  bacon,  some  beans 
and  flour,  and  likewise  a  few  cooking  utensils. 

On  the  morning  after  the  snowstorm  they  set  off 
early,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  found 

155 


156  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

themselves  ten  miles  further  on  their  journey  in  the 
direction  of  the  post.  It  had  been  hard  work  to 
travel  on  the  snowshoes,  over  a  trail  which  was  all 
but  obliterated,  and  Pomeroy  requested  that  they 
rest  again. 

"I've  been  a-loafin'  around  thet  fort  so  much  I 
ain't  got  my  walkin'  legs  yit,"  was  the  manner  in 
which  he  expressed  himself.  "Maybe  I'll  hev  'em 
by  ter-morrer." 

"I  fancy  we  all  need  the  rest,"  answered  James 
Morris.  "I  am  stiff  myself.  We'll  get  used  to  the 
snowshoes  in  a  day  or  two." 

They  searched  for  another  resting-place,  and 
James  Morris  found  a  spot  he  had  used  for  that 
purpose  when  he  had  first  gone  west — to  establish 
himself  on  the  Kinotah. 

"That  seems  a  long  time  ago,"  said  the  trader,  to 
Tony  Jadwin.  "And  think  of  all  that  has  happened 
since !  The  war  with  France,  and  the  capture  of 
Fort  Pitt,  Niagara,  Quebec,  Montreal,  and  a  number 
of  other  places,  and  then  this  war  with  Pontiac  and 
the  tribes  under  him.  Surely,  Tony,  we  can  be 
thankful  that  we  live  to  tell  about  it." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  trapper  addressed.  "And 
think  of  the  fights  at  the  old  trading  post  and  then  at 
the  new  one !  And  we  ain't  done  yet,  I  am  sorry  to 
say." 


THE   JOURNEY   TO    THE   TRADING   POST       1 57 

"Sometimes  I  wonder  if  it  is  worth  all  the  trouble 
and  risk,"  continued  James  Morris.  "I  have  gained 
a  little,  but  it  has  cost  me  dear." 

"I'd  never  give  in  to  the  Indians  or  to  them 
Frenchmen,  Mr.  Morris.  Why,  if  you  give  'em  a 
pound  they'll  want  a  thousand." 

"I  know  that." 

"The  land  in  the  west  belongs  to  the  English  now, 
and  a  fair  share  of  it  is  yours.  Those  Indians  and 
those  Frenchmen  have  got  to  leave  us  alone,  an'  the 
sooner  they  learn  the  lesson  the  better,"  concluded 
Tony  Jadwin. 

The  new  resting-place  was  where  some  tall  trees 
grew  on  the  very  edge  of  a  cliff.  One  tree  had 
fallen,  and  its  gigantic  roots  hung  over  the  cliff, 
forming  a  network  over  which  it  was  easy  to  place 
some  pine  branches.  As  the  cliff  was  hollowed  out 
just  beyond  the  trees,  this  left  a  space  about  eight 
feet  deep  by  twenty  feet  long  where  they  could  make 
themselves  comfortable.  Against  the  rocks  they 
built  a  fire,  the  smoke  escaping  through  some  crev- 
ices. They  cooked  themselves  a  haunch  of  venison 
and  some  beans  and  biscuits,  and  took  their  own  time 
about  eating.  All  went  to  sleep  as  soon  as  it  grew 
dark,  knowing  that  a  long,  hard  tramp  lay  before 
them  at  daybreak. 

The  travelers  were  destined  not  to  be  allowed  to 


158  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

rest  undisturbed.  James  Morris  slept  several  hours 
when  he  was  awakened  by  having  a  cold  nose  pressed 
against  his  face.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  sat  up  and 
at  the  same  instant  heard  a  low  growl. 

"A  bear!"  he  yelled,  as  loudly  as  he  could.  "A 
bear!     Two  of  them!" 

The  trader  was  right — two  full-grown  bears  had 
entered  the  camp,  evidently  attracted  by  the  smell  of 
venison  and  bacon.  As  James  Morris  arose  the 
bears  retreated  to  another  part  of  the  shelter,  one 
stepping  directly  upon  Peaceful  Jones. 

"Git  orf  o'  me,  ye  sinner!"  gasped  the  frontiers- 
man, wrathfully.  "Git  orf,  I  say!"  And  then  as 
the  bear  backed  away,  he  reached  for  his  rifle  and 
tried  to  take  aim.  But  Mr.  Morris  was  in  the  way, 
and  he  did  not  dare  to  pull  the  trigger. 

By  this  time  the  whole  camp  was  in  an  uproar. 
Tony  Jadwin  tried  to  rise,  but  just  as  he  did  so  one 
of  the  bears  ran  against  him,  pitching  him  down  in 
such  a  fashion  that  one  hand  went  into  the  smolder- 
ing fire. 

"Great  hamstrings!"  roared  the  trapper,  wiping 
the  hot  ashes  from  his  hand.  "What's  this  mean? 
Two  b'ars,  eh?  Shoot  'em,  somebody!  Shoot 
'em!" 

The  bears  were  now  evidently  as  much  frightened 
as  those  who  had  been  asleep,  and  tumbling  against 


THE   JOURNEY   TO   THE   TRADING   POST        1 59 

the  rocks  and  the  tree-roots  they  got  out  of  the 
shelter  and  ran  off  along  a  stretch  which  the  wind 
had  swept  clear  of  snow.  The  commotion  made 
some  dirt  and  snow  fall  on  the  fire,  practically  ex- 
tinguishing it. 

"Stir  up  that  fire,  Pomeroy,"  said  James  Morris, 
as  soon  as  something  like  quietness  had  been  re- 
stored. The  man  addressed  did  so  and  piled  on  some 
light  brushwood,  so  that  they  might  look  around 
them.  They  found  much  in  disorder,  and  soon 
made  the  discovery  that  the  bears  had  carried  off 
every  pound  of  the  meat. 

"They  didn't  do  it  just  now,"  said  Tony  Jadwin. 
"They  must  have  made  two  trips  o'  it.  Likely  they 
didn't  get  enough  the  first  time.  Drat  the  luck,  any- 
way! We  kin  shoot  some  more  venison,  but  we 
can't  git  no  bacon,  an'  bacon  is  what  I  like  best." 
In  those  days  deer  meat  was  so  plentiful  among  the 
hunters  that  many  grew  tired  of  eating  it,  just  as 
many  farmers  to-day  get  tired  of  eating  chickens. 

Had  it  been  daylight  some  of  the  party  would 
have  been  in  favor  of  following  the  bears  up  and 
shooting  them.  But  this  was  voted  out  of  the  ques- 
tion in  the  darkness,  and  so  they  retired  once  more, 
leaving  one  man,  however,  to  remain  on  guard  and 
attend  to  the  fire. 

The  next  day  the  weather  remained  clear  and  the 


l6o  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

sun  made  the  snow  pack  down  a  trifle,  so  that  it  be- 
came easier  to  walk  on  snowshoes.  The  route  lay 
over  several  hills  and  then  along  a  frozen  water- 
course where  the  ice  was  as  smooth  as  glass. 

"You  want  to  be  careful  here,"  observed  Pom- 
eroy.  "This  ice  ain't  so  hard  as  it  looks.  We  ain't 
had  much  winter,  outside  o'  the  snowstorm." 

They  followed  the  stream  until  they  came  to  a 
bend,  and  then  started  to  cross  over.  Tony  Jadwin 
was  in  advance,  when  he  heard  a  shout  from  Peace- 
ful Jones. 

"A  deer!" 

All  looked  and  saw  the  deer,  but  a  long  distance 
off.  Anxious  to  get  a  shot.  Peaceful  Jones  started 
along  the  river  bank  on  the  icy  snow.  He  had  gone 
only  a  few  steps,  when  they  suddenly  saw  him 
throw  up  his  hands  and  disappear  from  view. 

"Hello!  What  does  that  mean?"  exclaimed 
James  Morris.     "Was  he  shot?" 

"Either  thet  or  he  went  through  a  hole,"  answered 
one  of  the  other  men. 

All  brought  their  rifles  around,  ready  for  use,  and 
then  started  toward  the  spot  where  the  trapper  had 
disappeared  so  suddenly.  They  saw  a  hole  in  the 
snow. 

"He  is  down  there !"  cried  James  Morris.  "Come, 
we  must  get  him  out." 


"I  think  we  had  better  take  turns  watching,"  said  Henry. 
Page  49. 


THE   JOURNEY   TO   THE   TRADING   POST        l6l 

This  was  easier  said  than  done.  The  hole  was 
ten  or  twelve  feet  deep.  The  men  on  the  surface 
of  the  snow  joined  hands,  and  thus  held  James 
Morris  from  falling  in  as  the  trader  bent  over  the 
hole.  Looking  down,  he  could  see  Jones  below, 
spluttering  wildly. 

"Sa — sa — save  me !"  were  his  first  words.  The 
man  was  so  chilled  that  he  could  do  scarcely  more 
than  chatter. 

"We  will,"  answered  James  Morris. 

He  directed  the  last  man  on  the  line  to  pass  for- 
ward a  rifle,  and  he  took  hold  of  the  barrel  of  this, 
while  he  allowed  Peaceful  Jones  to  grasp  the  stock. 
Then  James  Morris  began  to  pull,  and  Peaceful 
Jones  came  up,  over  the  edge  of  the  hole,  and  was 
quickly  drawn  to  a  place  of  safety. 

The  man  was  so  chilled  that  the  others  lost  no  time 
in  building  a  big  fire,  in  the  meantime  covering  him 
with  a  blanket.  Then,  while  he  was  getting  warm, 
Pomeroy  went  fishing  with  a  stick  and  some  lines, 
and  after  a  lot  of  trouble  succeeded  in  bringing  up 
Jones's  rifle. 

"I  was  a-lookin'  at  the  deer,  an'  didn't  see 
the  hole,"  was  the  explanation  the  trapper  gave 
of  his  mishap.  "After  this  I'll  look  whar  I'm 
steppin'." 

"Ye  had  better,"  was  Pomeroy's  comment.    "'Cos 


162  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

it  might  be  as  thar  wouldn't  be  nobuddy  around  to 
help  ye  out  ag'in  !" 

The  river  left  behind,  they  passed  on  directly  to 
the  region  where  the  first  trading  post  had  been 
located.  This  was  still  suffering  from  the  effects  of 
the  burn-over,  although  here  and  there  a  few  trees 
and  bushes  had  sprouted  out  during  the  past  sum- 
mer. 

"It  was  a  fine  spot,"  said  James  Morris,  as  he 
stood  and  surveyed  the  site  of  the  old  post.  "A  fine 
spot.  But  it  is  no  good  now,  and  will  not  be  for 
years  to  come." 

"As  good  as  it  was,  the  site  of  the  new  post  is 
better,"  answered  Tony  Jadwin.  "In  fact,  I  think 
that  the  new  spot  is  the  finest  in  this  section  of  the 
country." 

"And  I  suppose  that  is  why  Jean  Bevoir  wishes  to 
get  possession  of  it,"  went  on  the  trader,  with  a  trace 
of  bitterness  in  his  tones. 

"Jean  Bevoir  knows  a  good  thing  when  he  sees  it," 
said  Peaceful  Jones.  "He's  about  ez  wise  ez  he  is 
wicked." 

"I  think  his  party  must  have  passed  this  way,"  put 
in  Pomeroy,  who  had  been  walking  around. 
"Thar's  been  a  camp  in  yonder  trees  not  long  ago — 
I  kin  tell  it  by  the  fresh-burnt  sticks." 

"Perhaps   some    Indians   have   been   here,"    said 


THE   JOURNEY   TO   THE   TRADING   POST        163 

James  Morris.  "Bevoir  and  his  followers  must  have 
reached  the  trading  post  long  ago." 

"Not  if  they  were  stopped  on  the  way." 

At  this  remark  a  sudden  hope  sprang  into  the 
breast  of  the  trader. 

"It  would  be  a  fine  thing  if  he  had  been  stopped 
and  we  could  get  there  first!"  he  cried.  "But  I  am 
afraid  that  is  hoping  for  too  much.  However,  let 
us  not  linger  here,  but  move  forward  at  once." 

The  others  were  willing,  and  without  delay  the 
journey  down  to  the  Ohio  was  resumed.  Every 
foot  of  the  way  was  familiar  to  all  of  the  party,  and 
one  or  the  other  took  the  lead,  over  trails  which  their 
feet  had  trod  in  times  of  war  as  well  as  in  peace. 

"The  Ohio  at  last !"  said  James  Morris,  at  noon  of 
the  next  day.  "I  am  glad  to  see  this  broad  stream 
once  more." 

They  were  now  within  a  few  miles  of  the  trading 
post,  and  all  hurried  forward  with  much  interest, 
curious  to  learn  what  they  should  find  when  they 
arrived  there. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

RUNNING    INTO    A    TRAP 

"There  is  the  post!" 

It  was  James  Morris  who  said  this.  He  was 
slightly  in  advance  of  the  others,  and  coming  around 
a  bend  of  the  Ohio  River  caught  sight  of  the  place 
which  had  cost  him  so  much  hard  work  to  establish. 

As  my  old  readers  know,  the  trading  post  proper 
was  a  substantial  building  of  heavy  logs,  containing 
four  rooms,  the  main  one  of  which  was  usually 
devoted  to  trading  with  the  trappers  and  Indians. 
Near  by  was  a  storehouse  of  two  rooms,  with  a 
stable  attached  for  horses  and  cattle. 

The  site  of  the  trading  post  was  a  small  bluff 
fronting  the  broad  Ohio,  and  not  far  away  was  a 
gurgling  brook,  with  some  rough  rocks  beyond. 
The  buildings  and  grounds  were  surrounded  by  a 
strong  palisade  of  sharpened  logs,  containing,  at  a 
convenient  point,  a  gate  ten  feet  in  width,  locked  by 
two  heavy  crossbars.  The  palisade  contained  many 
loopholes  for  shooting  purposes  in  case  of  attack. 
Around  the  outside  of  the  palisade  the  ground  had 

164 


RUNNING   INTO   A   TRAP  l6$ 

been  cleared  for  a  short  distance,  but  otherwise,  ex- 
cepting for  the  river,  the  unbroken  forest  stretched 
for  many  miles.  To-day  this  same  locality  is  dotted 
with  rich  farms  and  villages,  with  a  railroad  running 
through  it,  and  where  the  canoes  of  Indians  and 
white  hunters  used  to  ride  there  now  plow  steam- 
boats and  tugboats.  And  yet  this  was  but  a  hundred 
and  forty-odd  years  ago!  What  wonderful  strides 
our  country  is  making,  and  who  can  imagine  what 
the  next  hundred  and  forty  years  will  bring  forth? 

James  Morris  called  a  halt,  and  all  gathered 
around  him,  wondering  what  the  next  move  was  to 
be.  They  looked  toward  the  trading  post.  The 
great  gate  of  the  palisade  was  wide  open  and  there 
appeared  to  be  no  sign  of  life  anywhere. 

"Looks  deserted,  don't  it?"  remarked  Tony  Jad- 
win.  He  had  helped  to  erect  the  place  and  knew 
every  nook  and  corner  as  well  as  did  its  owner. 

"It  certainly  does,"  answered  James  Morris. 
"But  we  must  not  take  too  much  for  granted." 

"'Pears  like  I  kin  see  tracks  in  the  snow,  near  the 
gate,"  remarked  Peaceful  Jones.  "What  do  ye 
think  on't,  Pomeroy?" 

"Some  tracks  thar  certain,  but  the  wind  has  swept 
'em  so  ye  can't  tell  ef  they  belong  to  man  or  beast." 

"Let  us  walk  through  the  forest  and  look  at  the 
other  side  of  the  place,"  said  James  Morris,  and  this 


l66  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

was  done.  Try  their  best  they  could  see  nobody, 
and  from  the  branches  of  a  tree  Tony  Jadwin  an- 
nounced that  the  door  to  the  main  building  stood 
wide  open. 

"Then  it's  empty,"  said  Pomeroy.  "Because,  if 
anybuddy  war  thar,  they'd  shet  it  in  sech  weather  as 
this." 

At  last  James  Morris  concluded  to  venture 
through  the  gate,  and  did  so,  gun  in  hand,  and  fol- 
lowed by  the  others.  A  look  around  the  broad 
grounds  revealed  nobody,  and  with  a  heart  that  beat 
strangely,  the  trader  advanced  toward  the  main 
building. 

"Ho !     Within  there !"  he  called  out,  sharply. 

He  waited,  but  there  was  no  answer,  nor  did  any- 
body appear. 

"Reckon  we've  got  it  all  to  ourselves,"  said  Pom- 
eroy. "Either  Bevoir  an'  his  crowd  ain't  got  here 
yit,  or  else  they  are  out  on  a  hunt,  or  somethin'  else." 

"I'll  soon  make  sure,"  said  Tony  Jadwin,  and 
entered  the  main  building,  and  James  Morris  fol- 
lowed him.  It  was  rather  dark  within,  and  for  the 
moment  they  could  see  next  to  nothing.  Jadwin 
walked  to  one  side  of  the  room,  while  the  trader 
stepped  to  the  doorway  of  the  next  room.  In  the 
meanwhile  Pomeroy  entered  also,  leaving  only 
Peaceful  Jones  outside. 


RUNNING   INTO   A   TRAP  167 

It  was  then  that  the  scene  changed  as  if  by  magic. 
From  several  places  of  concealment  Jean  Bevoir, 
Benoit  Vascal,  and  a  number  of  Indians  under  Moon 
Eye  leaped  forth  and  fell  upon  the  three  newcomers. 
James  Morris  was  sent  flat  on  the  floor,  face  down- 
ward, so  that  he  could  not  use  his  gun,  and  Tony 
Jadwin  received  a  blow  from  a  club  that  stretched 
him  lifeless.  Two  Indians  pounced  upon  Pomeroy, 
who  uttered  a  loud  cry  for  assistance.  A  moment 
later  a  tomahawk  split  Pomeroy's  skull  in  twain,  kill- 
ing him  instantly. 

Peaceful  Jones  ran  forward  and  was  just  in  time 
to  see  Pomeroy  go  down,  with  the  hatchet  still  stick- 
ing in  his  head.  He  fired  at  one  of  the  Indians, 
shooting  him  through  the  heart.  Then  a  rifle  rang 
out  within  the  building,  and  Peaceful  Jones  felt  a 
bullet  graze  his  shoulder. 

"Come  on  out  o'  thet!"  he  roared.  "This  is  too 
hot  fer  us !" 

"Save  yourself!"  came  faintly  from  James  Morris. 
"We  are  trapped !     They  mean  to  massacre  us !" 

His  cries  were  cut  short  by  two  pistol  shots. 
Then  followed  sounds  of  several  blows,  and  James 
Morris  appeared  at  the  doorway,  his  face  covered 
with  blood.  He  took  one  more  step  forward,  and 
with  a  gasp  sank  down  in  a  heap. 

From  the  storehouse  now  poured  half  a  dozen 


l68  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

Indians,  armed  with  bows  and  arrows  and  toma- 
hawks. Realizing  that  it  would  be  useless  to  fight 
such  a  number  of  the  enemy,  and  satisfied  in  his  own 
mind  that  all  of  his  companions  were  either  killed  or 
mortally  wounded,  Peaceful  Jones  turned  and  ran 
for  the  rear  of  the  main  building.  Three  arrows 
whizzed  beside  him,  and  a  bullet  from  a  pistol  flew 
close  to  his  ear. 

"After  heem!  He  must  not  escape!"  came  in 
the  voice  of  Jean  Bevoir.     "Ve  must  keel  dem  all !" 

Reaching  the  back  of  the  main  building,  Peaceful 
Jones  did  not  pause.  In  the  snow  lay  some  brush- 
wood, and  he  caught  up  a  branch  of  this,  and,  hold- 
ing it  behind  him,  continued  to  run.  Two  more 
arrows  were  sent  after  him  and  lodged  in  the  tree- 
branch,  thus  saving  him  from  further  injury. 

As  he  came  close  to  the  corner  of  the  palisade  he 
wondered  what  he  had  best  do  next.  The  Indians 
were  after  him  hot-footed  and  so  was  one  of  the 
Frenchmen.  He  felt  that  to  make  a  stand  would 
mean  certain  death. 

He  had  thus  far  gained  a  spot  used  the  year  before 
for  sawing  and  splitting  wood.  A  big  saw-buck 
was  still  standing  there,  and  he  picked  it  up  with  ease 
and  continued  to  run.  Reaching  the  palisade,  he 
stood  the  saw-buck  up  on  one  end  and  climbed  to  the 
top. 


RUNNING   INTO   A   TRAP  169 

"Stop!"  roared  a  voice,  in  French,  and  a  rifle  rang 
out.  The  bullet  this  time  struck  Peaceful  Jones  in 
the  left  shoulder,  inflicting  an  ugly  and  painful 
wound.  He  gave  a  grunt,  mounted  the  sharp  points 
of  the  palisade,  and  dropped  outside.  Then,  with 
all  the  strength  that  was  left  to  him,  he  started  for 
the  nearest  patch  of  timber,  sixty  yards  distant.  As 
he  entered  the  timber  some  more  arrows  flew  to- 
wards him,  but  went  shy  of  their  mark. 

The  trapper  was  now  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood, 
which  was  flowing  down  from  his  shoulder  to  his 
hand.  But  he  staggered  on,  knowing  that  he  now 
had  no  time  to  stop  and  bind  up  his  wound.  He 
rushed  straight  into  the  forest  and  staggered  onward 
until  he  came  to  a  clump  of  low-branched  trees. 
Then,  to  "cut  the  trail,"  as  it  was  called,  he  pulled 
himself  up  into  the  trees  by  his  uninjured  arm  and 
climbed  from  one  tree  to  another,  and  so  on,  until  a 
hundred  feet  had  been  covered.  Then  he  dropped 
on  some  rocks,  which  the  wind  had  swept  clear  of 
snow,  and  went  forward  as  before,  gritting  his 
teeth,  to  keep  himself  from  fainting  from  loss  of 
blood. 

It  was  well  for  Peaceful  Jones  that  night  was  com- 
ing on,  and  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  it  was  growing 
dark.  Plucky  though  he  was  to  the  last  degree,  he 
was  but  human,  and  now  felt  that  he  might  drop 


17O  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

from  sheer  exhaustion  at  any  moment.  He  looked 
for  some  sort  of  a  hiding-place,  and  reaching  a  cedar 
tree  growing  in  a  split  of  the  rocks,  dove  under  it. 

For  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour  the  trapper  did 
little  but  hold  his  hand  tightly  over  his  wound  and 
pant  for  breath,  leaning  against  the  tree  in  the  mean- 
while with  eyes  closed.  He  could  do  nothing  more 
to  save  himself,  and  was  in  that  condition  of  mind 
when  capture  or  escape  meant  little  or  nothing  to 
him. 

But  as  his  breath  came  back  to  him,  and  none  of 
the  Indians  or  Frenchmen  appeared,  a  spark  of  hope 
came  to  his  breast.  He  tore  off  his  heavy  coat  and 
his  hunting  shirt  and  examined  the  wound  from 
which  he  had  suffered  the  most.  The  bullet  had 
passed  directly  through  the  flesh  and  some  lint  was 
sticking  in  the  wound.  He  took  out  the  lint,  cleaned 
the  wound  with  soft  snow,  and  bound  it  up  as  best 
he  could  with  a  handkerchief  and  a  bandage  he 
carried  for  emergencies.  Then  he  drew  on  his  hunt- 
ing shirt  once  more  and  his  coat,  closed  his  eyes, 
and  fell  back  in  a  sort  of  stupor. 

It  was  pitch-dark  when  Peaceful  Jones  came  to 
himself  once  more.  At  a  distance  he  heard  a  mur- 
mur of  voices.  Some  Indians  and  a  Frenchman 
were  holding  a  conversation. 

"I  can  see  nothing  of  a  trail,"  said  one  of  the 


RUNNING   INTO    A   TRAP  171 

Indians,  in  his  native  tongue.  "I  doubt  if  he  came 
this  way." 

"He  must  not  be  allowed  to  get  away,"  said  the 
Frenchman,  also  in  the  Indian  tongue.  "Dead  men 
are  best,  since  they  tell  no  tales." 

"Are  the  others  all  dead?"  asked  another  Indian. 

"Dead  or  dying." 

"It  was  lucky  that  Moon  Eye  discovered  their 
coming  in  time,"  said  the  first  Indian  who  had 
spoken.     "We  set  a  nice  trap  for  them." 

The  Indians  and  the  Frenchman  continued  to  talk, 
in  the  meantime  moving  away  from  the  cedar  tree, 
so  that  Peaceful  Jones  made  out  no  more  of  the 
conversation.  He  himself  could  speak  the  Indian 
language  and  understood  every  word  that  had  been 
spoken. 

The  news  filled  his  heart  with  grief.  All  his  com- 
panions were  either  dead  or  dying  and  the  enemy 
were  doing  their  best  to  find  and  slay  him.  He  felt 
that  only  by  the  help  of  Providence  would  he  be 
enabled  to  escape.  He  was  not  a  very  religious  man, 
but  he  breathed  a  silent  prayer  to  Heaven  that  he 
might  be  spared,  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 
carry  the  sad  news  back  to  Fort  Pitt. 

An  hour  went  by,  and  the  Indians  and  the  French- 
man left  the  vicinity  entirely.  But  then  came  some- 
thing else  to  disturb  and  alarm  him. 


172  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

A  small  bear  stepped  into  view,  sniffing  the  air 
suspiciously-  His  den  was  among  the  rocks  close  to 
the  cedar  under  which  the  hunter  was  resting.  He 
came  forward  slowly,  as  if  knowing  by  instinct  that 
all  was  not  right. 

At  first  Peaceful  Jones  was  alarmed,  then  a  sudden 
grim  smile  came  to  his  bronzed  features.  He  drew 
his  long  hunting  knife  and  waited  for  the  bear  to 
come  within  striking  distance. 

"Your  life  or  mine — an'  it  ain't  goin'  to  be  me  ef 
I  kin  help  it,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

The  bear  came  to  the  cedar  and  pushed  a  branch 
aside  with  his  nose.  Like  lightning,  Peaceful  Jones 
leaped  forward  and  made  a  plunge  with  his  hunting 
knife.  Then  the  blade  was  withdrawn  and  slashed 
rapidly  across  the  animal's  throat.  There  was  a 
grunt,  a  gasp,  and  the  animal  fell  down  in  its  tracks, 
gave  a  convulsive  shudder,  and  lay  dead. 

Weak  as  he  was,  the  old  trapper  managed  to  draw 
the  game  under  the  cedar  and  kicked  some  fresh 
snow  over  the  spot  where  the  blood  had  flowed. 
Then  he  took  his  hunting  knife,  cut  out  a  piece  of 
bear  meat,  and  began  to  suck  and  gnaw  upon  it  like 
some  wild  animal.  It  was  a  primitive  meal,  and 
might  have  made  another  person  sick,  but  it  satisfied 
him  and  gave  him  strength, — and  strength  was  what 
he  needed  above  anything  else. 


RUNNING   INTO   A   TRAP  1 73 

The  morning  brought  a  light  snowstorm,  for 
which  he  was  thankful,  since  it  would  cover  up  his 
tracks.  As  soon  as  he  felt  able  to  do  so,  he  cut  him- 
self a  big  chunk  of  the  bear  meat,  slung  it  over  his 
shoulder,  and  set  off,  in  the  direction  of  the  Kinotah. 
He  plunged  directly  into  the  great  forest,  afraid  to 
take  to  any  of  the  trails  leading  eastward  for  fear 
he  would  run  into  the  enemy  once  again. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    SHOOTING    CONTEST 

To  Dave  and  Henry,  left  at  Fort  Pitt,  the  days 
passed  slowly.  Occasionally  they  went  out  hunting, 
with  fair  success,  but,  warned  by  Captain  Ecuyer, 
did  not  venture  far  away.  They  waited  patiently 
for  some  word  from  Rodney,  and  some  word  from 
Dave's  father,  but  no  news  came  to  them. 

"I  hope  Rodney  got  home  in  safety,"  said  Henry, 
one  day.     "I  don't  see  why  we  don't  hear  from  him." 

"I  wish  father  would  send  some  word,"  answered 
Dave.     "I  am  beginning  to  grow  anxious." 

October  slipped  into  November,  and  winter  was 
now  on  them  in  earnest.  It  snowed  a  great  deal, 
and  Fort  Pitt  was  cut  off  from  communication  in  all 
directions.  The  soldiers  scarcely  knew  what  to  do 
with  themselves,  and  the  settlers  who  had  gone  to 
the  stronghold  for  protection  were  also  weary  of  the 
confinement. 

To  pass  the  time  some  of  the  men  one  day  got  up 
a  shooting  contest,  and  asked  Dave  and  Henry  to 
join.     The  youths  were  willing,  and  paid  the  ad- 

174 


THE    SHOOTING   CONTEST  1 75 

mission  fee,  two  shillings.  The  first  prize  was  a 
silver  mug,  the  second  prize  a  fancy  bullet-mold,  and 
the  third  a  new  hunting  knife. 

Among  the  soldiers  to  participate  in  the  contest 
were  two  named  Gasway  and  Pelton.  Both  were 
beefy  Englishmen,  from  London,  who  had  come  over 
the  year  before.  Each  was  given  to  boasting,  and 
each  felt  certain  of  winning  either  the  first  or  the 
second  prize. 

"What!  you  boys  going  to  compete!"  cried  Gas- 
way,  to  Dave,  disdainfully.  "Sure,  'twill  be  good 
money  thrown  away." 

"Perhaps  we'll  not  do  so  badly,"  said  Dave,  net- 
tled by  Gasway's  superior  manner. 

"The  first  prize  will  go  to  me  and  the  second  to 
my  friend  Pelton,"  went  on  the  English  soldier. 
"I  take  it  you  chits  will  be  at  the  end  of  the  list." 

Left  to  himself,  Dave  sought  out  his  cousin  and 
told  him  what  Gasway  had  said.  Henry  smiled 
grimly. 

"He  had  better  do  his  crowing  after  the  shooting, 
not  before,  Dave." 

"I  wish  we  could  beat  him,  and  beat  Pelton,  too." 

"Well,  we  can  try." 

The  contest  was  to  come  off  on  the  following 
afternoon.  The  day  proved  clear,  and  a  goodly 
number  of  those  stationed  at  the  fort  gathered  to 


176  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

witness  the  shooting.  The  target,  a  large  affair  of 
wood,  with  several  rings  and  a  bull's-eye,  was  nailed 
to  a  tree,  and  a  stump  marked  the  spot  where  each 
contestant  must  stand  while  shooting.  Each  con- 
testant was  to  have  three  shots,  and  the  highest  pos- 
sible score  was  eighteen  points. 

The  first  soldier  to  shoot,  a  man  named  Pepperley, 
made  two  points  with  his  first  shot.  Another  made 
three,  and  another  five.  Then  came  Gasway,  who 
made  five  also,  and  Pelton,  who  made  six. 

"Now,  Dave,"  said  Henry,  and  Dave  stepped  to 
the  front,  took  careful  aim,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

"Four!"  announced  the  officer  who  was  keeping 
the  tally. 

Dave  was  a  trifle  disappointed,  as  he  had  hoped 
to  make  at  least  five.  Yet  he  managed  to  smile  as  he 
turned  to  Henry. 

"You  can  do  better  than  that,  I  know,"  he  said. 

Two  other  marksmen  now  came  to  the  front, 
making  four  each.     Then  it  was  Henry's  turn. 

The  youth  took  his  time  about  shooting,  and  when 
the  smoke  cleared  away  a  shout  went  up : 

"A  bull's-eye  for  Henry  Morris !" 

"Good — that  counts  six  for  you,  Henry!"  ex- 
claimed Dave. 

Soon  the  men  were  shooting  for  the  second  time. 
Dave  got  a  bull's-eye  and  Henry  a  five,  giving  them 


"A  bull's-eye  for  Henry  Morris!"  —  Page  176. 


THE   SHOOTING   CONTEST  1 77 

10  and  1 1  respectively.  Strange  to  say  Gas  way  and 
Pel  ton  also  scored  10  and  n,  so  the  friends  on  each 
side  were  a  tie.  The  other  marksmen  got  from  8 
to  10  each. 

Those  to  make  the  highest  scores  were  to  shoot 
last,  and  as  a  consequence  Dave  was  pitted  against  a 
soldier  named  Brocaw  and  against  Gasway,  while 
Henry  was  pitted  against  Pelton. 

Brocaw  was  the  first  to  shoot  and  made  a  four, 
much  to  his  disgust. 

"You  go  next,"  said  Gasway  to  Dave. 

"Toss  up  for  it,"  said  the  officer  who  was  judg- 
ing the  contest,  and  the  toss  of  a  penny  sent  Gasway 
to  the  front.  He  was  a  trifle  nervous  and  took  so 
long  to  shoot  that  some  friends  jeered  at  him. 

"Five!"  called  out  the  judge,  when  the  shot  had 
been  taken. 

"Now,  Dave,  make  a  bull's-eye!"  cried  Henry. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Dave  was  also  nervous, 
although  he  did  his  best  to  conceal  it.  This  time  he 
raised  his  rifle  quickly  and  blazed  away  before  any- 
body expected  it. 

"A  bull's-eye,  sure  enough !" 

"That  gives  him  two  points  above  Brocaw  and  one 
point  above  Gasway !" 

The  toss  of  the  penny  now  brought  Pelton  to  the 
front,  and  he  shot  with  great  care,  yet  all  he  could 


178  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

make  was  a  five,  which  gave  him  a  total  of  16  points, 
just  what  Dave  had. 

"Now,  Henry,  a  bull's-eye  sure,"  said  Dave. 

"More  likely  he'll  make  a  three,"  sneered  Gasway. 
He  was  disgusted  because  of  his  own  showing. 

Henry  was  cool,  for  his  nerves  seldom  bothered 
him.  He  took  aim  with  great  deliberation,  and  hit 
the  target  exactly  in  the  center. 

"Seventeen  points  for  Henry  Morris!"  was  the 
cry. 

"He  takes  the  first  prize !" 

"He  certainly  can  shoot,  even  if  he  is  young." 

It  was  decided  that  Dave  Morris  and  Ike  Pelton 
should  have  one  more  shot  each,  the  one  coming 
nearest  to  the  center  of  the  target  taking  the  second 
prize  and  the  other  taking  the  third  prize.  The  toss 
made  Pelton  shoot  first.  All  of  the  other  shots  on 
the  target  were  chalked  over,  so  that  there  might 
be  no  mistakes  in  scoring. 

This  time  Pelton  took  more  care  than  ever  in 
shooting,  and  as  a  consequence  put  his  bullet  directly 
on  the  inner  ring, — something  which,  though  be- 
tween 5  and  6,  would  count  the  higher  number. 

"I  fancy  the  youngster  can't  beat  that,"  said  Gas- 
way. 

"Don't  be  so  sure,"  answered  a  soldier  who 
favored  Dave. 


THE   SHOOTING   CONTEST  IjQ 

Dave's  heart  thumped  loudly  in  his  breast  as  he 
stepped  up  beside  the  tree-stump.  But  he  kept  out- 
wardly calm  and  did  what  he  could  to  steady  his 
arms.  He  took  one  good  look  at  the  target,  raised 
his  rifle,  and  fired.  The  smoke  cleared  away  and 
there  was  a  second  of  silence. 

"Amiss!" 

"What !"  cried  Dave  and  Henry,  in  a  breath. 

"The  bullet  does  not  seem  to  have  touched  the 
target,"  announced  the  judge. 

"Oh,  I  must  have  hit  the  target!"  went  on  Dave. 
"Why,  I  aimed  as  carefully  as  before,  when  I  made 
16  in  three  shots." 

"Can't  help  it.  The  target  has  not  been  touched. 
You  can  see  for  yourself." 

Dave  ran  forward,  and  so  did  all  of  the  others. 
There  was  Pelton's  shot  and  all  of  the  others',  each 
marked  with  chalk. 

"I  know  wot  he  did!"  shouted  one  old  frontiers- 
man. 

"And  so  do  I !"  added  Henry,  triumphantly.  "It's 
been  done  before,  too." 

"What?"  came  in  a  chorus. 

"His  bullet  is  on  top  of  mine,  directly  in  the  center 
of  the  bull's-eye." 

"Can  that  be  possible?"  cried  the  officer  in  charge. 
"We'll  soon  see." 


l8o  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

He  got  out  his  penknife  and  began  to  dig  at  the 
hole  in  the  middle  of  the  target.  Soon  one  bullet 
came  up,  and  another  was  revealed  beneath  it. 

"Dave  Morris  gets  the  second  prize,  and  Pelton 
takes  third !" 

"And  Gasway  and  the  others  get  nothing,"  said 
one  of  the  soldiers.  "Gasway,  maybe  you  won't 
blow  so  much  after  this." 

"Bah !  The  shooting  didn't  amount  to  much 
anyway!"  growled  Gasway,  and  lost  no  time  in  get- 
ting out  of  sight.  But  he  never  said  anything  more 
to  Dave  or  Henry  about  target  shooting,  nor  did 
Pelton  mention  the  subject. 

After  that  Henry  was  urged  to  try  his  hand  at 
long-distance  shooting.  To  please  his  friends  he 
complied,  and  made  several  remarkable  shots,  which 
called  forth  praise  from  Captain  Ecuyer  and  many 
others. 

"I  know  of  nobody  who  can  shoot  better  than 
you,"  said  the  commandant  of  the  fort. 

"I  know  one  man  who  can — the  man  who  taught 
me,"  answered  the  youth. 

"And  who  is  he?" 

"Sam  Barringford.  I  don't  know  if  he  can  do 
any  better  at  a  target,  but  he  can  best  me  in  shooting 
at  running  game  or  flying  birds.  He  is  remarkably 
quick  that  way." 


THE   SHOOTING   CONTEST  151 

"But  you  must  be  able  to  hit  a  bird  on  the 
wing." 

"I  can  generally.  Once  in  a  while  I  miss,"  an- 
swered Henry. 

"But  not  often,"  said  Dave.  "He  is  the  best  hun- 
ter in  our  family,  by  a  good  deal,"  he  added,  warmly. 

"Well,  you  can  do  a  little  too,"  said  Captain 
Ecuyer,  with  a  laugh. 

The  shooting  had  taken  place  in  a  clearing 
behind  Fort  Pitt.  The  party  was  about  to 
return  to  the  fort,  when  a  sudden  shouting  was 
heard. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Captain  Ecuyer, 
quickly. 

"Somebody  is  coming  down  the  trail !" 

"A  messenger!     A  messenger!"  was  the  cry. 

"It  is  Peaceful  Jones !" 

The  report  proved  true;  it  was  indeed  Peaceful 
Jones  who  was  coming  along  the  trail  leading  from 
the  west.  He  walked  slowly,  as  if  very  tired  or 
full  of  pain. 

"Let's  go  to  meet  him !"  cried  Dave,  and  ran  for- 
ward, followed  by  Henry  and  half  a  dozen  others. 
It  did  not  take  them  long  to  reach  the  trapper,  who, 
as  soon  as  he  saw  them,  stopped  short  and  clutched 
a  tree  for  support. 

"What   is    it,   Jones?"    asked    Henry,    and   then 


182  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

started,  as  did  Dave,  for  they  saw  the  man  was  very 
thin,  as  if  he  had  suffered  from  a  long  illness. 

"Thank  Heaven  I — I  am  ba — back  at  last!" 
gasped  Peaceful  Jones.  "I  th — thought  I'd  never 
ma — make  it!" 

"You  are  sick — you  have  been  hurt!"  burst  out 
Dave,  and  helped  to  support  him. 

"Yes — got  shot — Bevoir's  crowd — got  away — 
sick — lost  in  forest — Indians — old  medicine  man — - 
got  away  again — come  here — and  now "  Peace- 
ful Jones  could  not  go  on. 

"You  were  shot?"  queried  Dave;  "and  by  Be- 
voir's crowd?  What  of  my  father?"  And  the 
youth's  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating. 

"Dead — everybody  is  dead  but  me,  and  I — I — 
oh!"  And  then  Peaceful  Jones  dropped  limply 
into  the  arms  of  Dave  and  Henry.  His  eyes  closed, 
and  for  the  time  being  he  knew  no  more. 

"He  has  fainted  from  exhaustion,"  said  an  under 
officer  who  had  come  up.  "Carry  him  to  the  fort, 
and  we  will  do  what  we  can  to  revive  him.  He  must 
have  important  news  to  tell." 

"YTes,"  said  Dave,  brokenly.  The  mist  was  swim- 
ming before  his  eyes.  "Oh,  Henry,  can  this  be 
true  ?     Can  father  be  dead  ?" 

"Let  us  hope  for  the  best,"  answered  his  cousin. 
He,  too,  could  hardly  speak. 


THE    SHOOTING   CONTEST  183 

Then  some  soldiers  raised  Peaceful  Jones  to  their 
shoulders  and  marched  off  to  the  fort  with  him. 
Dave  and  Henry  followed  in  their  rear,  each  with  a 
heart  that  sank  lower  and  lower  at  every  step. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ANOTHER    LONG    JOURNEY 

For  several  hours  Peaceful  Jones  lay  in  a  stupor 
of  pain  and  exhaustion.  He  was  given  the  best 
medical  attention  the  fort  afforded,  and  at  last 
dropped  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he  did  not 
awaken  until  the  next  day.  He  was  then  still  weak, 
but  able  to  tell  his  story  in  detail. 

Much  of  it  we  already  know.  After  leaving  the 
vicinity  of  the  cedar  with  his  bear  meat  over  his 
shoulder  he  had  wandered  around  in  the  woods  and 
gotten  lost.  Then  he  had  been  snowed  in  for  over 
a  week,  and  at  the  end  of  that  period  had  been  taken 
down  with  a  fever,  and  had  come  out  of  it  to  find 
himself  in  an  Indian  camp  and  under  the  care  of  a 
medicine  man  for  whom  he  had  once  done  a  favor. 
The  medicine  man  told  him  that  some  other  Indians 
wished  to  kill  him,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  the 
trapper  had  fled  from  the  Indian  village  and  started 
again  for  Fort  Pitt.  He  had  fallen  over  some  rocks 
into  a  hollow  while  on  the  last  three  miles  of  his 

184 


ANOTHER  LONG  JOURNEY         185 

journey  and  was  so  weak  that  he  could  hardly  stand 
when  discovered  by  his  friends. 

"But  are  you  certain  the  others  were  all  killed — 
that  my  father  was  killed?"  asked  Dave. 

"He  must  be  dead,  Dave — although  I  didn't  see 
him  go  down.  I  was  outside  of  the  tradin'  post. 
But  I  heard  a  Frenchman  and  an  Indian  speak  about 
it.     They  were  more  than  anxious  to  kill  me  too." 

"Oh,  I  cannot  believe  that  father  is  dead !"  burst 
out  the  youth,  and  had  to  turn  away  to  hide  his 
tears. 

Henry  did  what  he  could  to  comfort  his  cousin, 
but  was  himself  much  downcast.  That  evening  the 
pair  talked  the  matter  over  for  several  hours,  but 
the  discussion  did  not  appear  to  help  the  situation. 

"I  wish  we  could  get  Colonel  Bouquet  or  Captain 
Ecuyer  to  march  against  Jean  Bevoir,"  said  Dave. 
"That  Frenchman  and  his  associates  ought  to  be 
shot  down  or  hanged." 

"I  don't  think  either  the  colonel  or  the  captain 
will  want  to  go  out  during  the  winter,"  answered 
Henry,  which  was  a  correct  conclusion.  The  season 
was  proving  so  severe  that  the  idea  of  sending  a 
body  of  soldiers  on  a  trail  that  was  then  but  little 
known  was  out  of  the  question,  in  the  opinion  of 
both  the  colonel  and  the  commandant  of  the  fort. 
Both  said  nothing  could  be  done  until  spring. 


186  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

"I  don't  believe  they  will  ever  send  the  soldiers 
out  there,"  said  Dave  to  Henry,  with  much  bitter- 
ness in  his  tone.  "They  think  they  have  their  hands 
full  taking  care  of  matters  as  far  west  as  this 
fort." 

"Well,  we  can't  exactly  blame  them,  Dave.  They 
have  had  some  hard  times  here,  during  the  past  few 
years." 

"But  do  you  want  to  stay  here  and  let  Bevoir  and 
his  crowd  escape  punishment?" 

"I  certainly  do  not.  But  what  can  we  do?  It 
would  be  foolhardy  for  us  to  dream  of  going  out 
there  alone." 

"We  might  go  home  and  organize  a  party  from 
there.     I  think  your  father  would  help  us." 

"That  is  a  roundabout  way  of  getting  at  it,"  an- 
swered Henry,  thoughtfully.  "But  it  could  be 
done." 

"I  can't  bear  to  think  of  staying  here  and  doing 
nothing,"  resumed  Dave.  "Why,  every  day  would 
seem  like  a  month !  I  must  know  the  truth,  and  I 
must  do  something  to  bring  Jean  Bevoir  and  those 
other  rascals  to  justice." 

With  Dave,  to  think  was  to  act,  and  by  the  next 
day  he  had  made  up  his  mind  fully.  He  would 
return  to  Will's  Creek,  tell  his  Uncle  Joe  and  the 
others  all,  and  get  them  to  aid  him  in  organizing  an 


ANOTHER   LONG  JOURNEY  1 87 

expedition  to  move  against  Jean  Bevoir  and  his  evil 
associates. 

The  commandant  of  the  fort  was  much  surprised 
at  the  youth's  determination  and  secretly  admired  his 
pluck.  Yet  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  over  the  wis- 
dom of  the  plan. 

"'Tis  a  long  journey  to  the  east  and  'twill  be  a 
longer  journey  to  the  west,"  he  said.  "However, 
have  your  own  way,  and  I  will  aid  you  as  much  as 
I  can." 

It  was  arranged  that  two  frontiersmen  named 
Lawson  and  Devine  should  accompany  Dave  and 
Henry  on  their  journey  eastward.  The  four  were 
to  go  on  foot,  taking  along  snowshoes,  and  each  was 
to  carry  a  knapsack  well  filled  with  rations.  They 
were  to  move  along  as  quickly  as  possible,  only 
stopping  to  shoot  game  when  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary. 

Lawson  and  Devine  were  fairly  well  known  to  the 
youths.  Each  had  been  over  the  trail  a  number  of 
times,  and  each  was  stout  and  strong  and  well  able  to 
resist  the  hardships  of  the  trip.  All  went  over  their 
outfits  with  care,  and  did  not  carry  anything  more 
than  seemed  absolutely  necessary. 

The  start  was  made  from  Fort  Pitt  on  a  bright 
clear  day  in  the  middle  of  December.  A  few  of  the 
soldiers  went  out  to  see  them  off,  and  to  the  first 


188  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

bend  in  the  trail.  Then  they  turned  back,  and  the 
party  of  four  was  left  to  confront  whatever  lay 
before  it. 

"I  do  not  think  we  shall  meet  any  Indians,"  said 
Henry.  "They  do  not  fancy  moving  around  in  such 
nipping  weather  as  this." 

"Keep  your  eyes  open,  is  what  I  say,"  answered 
Lawson,  who  was  striding  along  in  advance.  "An 
Injun  ain't  going  to  announce  his  coming  with  bells 
and  a  horn." 

For  the  first  few  miles  of  the  journey  but  little 
was  spoken,  the  frontiersmen  being  of  a  silent  turn 
of  mind  and  Dave  and  Henry  being  busy  with  their 
thoughts.  They  were  following  the  old  Braddock 
road,  thinking  they  might  make  better  progress  on 
this  through  the  heavy  snows  than  on  the  General 
Forbes  route. 

"I  am  afraid,  if  we  push  ourselves  too  much  the 
first  day,  we'll  be  rather  stiff  the  second,"  remarked 
Henry,  as  they  stopped  for  a  minute  on  a  rise  of 
ground  to  get  their  breath. 

"Oh,  I  want  to  make  as  many  miles  as  I  possibly 
can,"  answered  Dave  impatiently. 

"I  agree  with  Henry,"  said  Devine.  "We'll  have 
to  take  it  a  bit  easier.  We'll  gain  by  it  in  the  end, 
mark  my  words." 

That  night  they  encamped  in  a  snug  spot  among 


ANOTHER  LONG  JOURNEY         1 89 

the  rocks.  Plenty  of  firewood  was  handy,  and  they 
built  up  a  roaring  blaze.  On  the  way  Henry  had 
seen  a  bunch  of  rabbits  and  had  not  resisted  the 
temptation  to  take  a  shot.  He  had  secured  three, 
and  these  were  cooked  to  a  turn  and  eaten,  after 
which  they  turned  in  without  delay,  each  taking  his 
turn  at  standing  guard  and  keeping  up  the  fire. 

The  next  day  was  largely  a  repetition  of  the  first, 
and  the  third  day  was  on  the  same  order,  although 
Lawson  saw  a  deer  and  shot  at  it,  breaking  its  leg. 
Dave  gave  the  game  a  finishing  bullet,  and  they  took 
the  meat  to  their  next  camping  spot.  There  the 
deer  was  cut  up,  and  each  was  given  a  good-sized 
piece  to  carry  along. 

"That  ought  to  last  us  several  days,"  said  Law- 
son.  "So  we  won't  have  to  waste  time  or  powder 
on  more  stuff  for  the  larder." 

The  next  day,  about  noon,  came  an  alarm. 
Turning  a  bend  of  the  trail  they  came  in  sight  of 
fully  a  score  of  Indians,  all  on  snowshoes  and  jour- 
neying in  the  direction  of  Fort  Pitt. 

"Out  of  sight!"  warned  Lawson,  and  leaped  be- 
hind some  bushes,  followed  by  his  companions. 

"I  think  they  saw  us  first,"  said  Henry.  "And  if 
so,  it  will  do  us  small  good  to  hide." 

He  had  hardly  spoken  when  a  shrill  whistle  filled 
the  air,  followed  by  a  cry  that  was  well  known  to 


IQO  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

Dave  and  Henry.  At  once  both  boys  ran  out  into 
the  road. 

"White  Buffalo !"  cried  Dave,  and  moved  onward 
to  greet  the  aged  chief. 

"Where  goes  my  young  friend?"  questioned 
White  Buffalo. 

"I  am  going  home,"  answered  Dave,  and  then 
told  of  what  had  happened  at  the  trading  post. 
White  Buffalo  was  much  concerned. 

"'Tis  sad  news  indeed,"  said  he.  "And  comes  at 
a  time  when  White  Buffalo's  heart  was  filled  with 
gladness." 

"What  has  happened  to  make  you  glad?"  asked 
Henry. 

"My  tribe  is  at  peace  once  more.  Henceforth  all 
of  our  warriors  will  be  friendly  to  the  English. 
And  they  have  made  me  the  chief  of  all  my 
people." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,  for  your  sake !"  cried  Dave. 
"And  you  deserve  this,  White  Buffalo,  for  you  are 
the  very  best  Indian  I  know." 

"White  Buffalo  wishes  he  could  aid  his  friend 
Dave,"  said  the  Indian.  "But  now  he  must  journey 
to  the  home  of  the  Delawares,  to  prepare  for  the 
great  ceremonial.  But  when  he  is  at  liberty  he  will 
follow  Dave,  and  bring  with  him  some  of  his  best 
braves," 


ANOTHER  LONG  JOURNEY         I9I 

"I'll  be  glad  of  that,  White  Buffalo." 

"If  Bevoir  and  his  curs  have  slain  Dave's  father 
and  his  friends  they  must  suffer  for  it,"  went  on  the 
aged  chief.  "And  the  trading  post  belongs  to  Dave 
and  his  people,"  he  added,  firmly.  "Neither  the 
French  nor  the  red  men  can  have  it." 

A  talk  lasting  an  hour  followed,  and  White  Buf- 
falo said  again  that  sooner  or  later  he  would  aid 
Dave.  How  he  kept  his  word  we  shall  see  in  a  later 
chapter. 

The  Indians  went  on  their  way,  and  once  again 
Dave  and  the  others  turned  their  faces  eastward. 
Nothing  more  happened  to  alarm  them,  and  thus 
they  went  on  for  two  days  more. 

"We'll  soon  be  there,"  said  Dave.  "We  ought  to 
strike  one  of  the  settlements  in  a  day  or  two."  They 
had  certainly  pushed  ahead  with  rapidity,  as  their 
strained  and  tired  legs  testified. 

That  night  they  encamped  among  some  trees,  and 
in  the  morning  found  everything  covered  with  snow. 
The  snow  was  still  coming  down  steadily. 

"We  are  not  going  to  do  so  well  to-day,"  said 
Henry.  "We  must  take  care,  or  we'll  get  off  the 
trail." 

"Trust  me  to  keep  to  the  trail,"  said  Lawson.  "I 
know  the  ground  too  well  to  get  lost." 

It  was  indeed  hard  to  go  on,  and  by  noon  they 


I92  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

were  glad  enough  to  stop  for  a  long  rest.  The  wind 
was  biting  cold  and  the  temperature  was  going 
down  rapidly. 

"Unless  I  miss  my  guess  we're  going  to  have  an 
awful  night,"  remarked  Devine.  "The  best  thing 
we  can  do  is  to  find  some  good  shelter  before  it  gets 
too  dark." 

They  pushed  on  from  two  o'clock  to  four.  By 
that  time  the  leaden  sky  was  growing  dark,  and  they 
looked  around  for  the  best  shelter  obtainable.  At 
last  they  chose  a  spot  where  there  were  some  rocks 
and  thickly  set  trees. 

"This  isn't  as  good  as  it  might  be,  but  it's  the 
best  around  here,  I  reckon,"  said  Lawson. 

They  scraped  away  the  snow  and  built  a  fire,  and 
then  heaped  up  some  brushwood  as  a  shelter  from 
the  wind.  But  it  kept  growing  colder  and  colder, 
until  they  were  glad  enough  to  huddle  close  to  the 
blaze  with  their  coats  buttoned  closely  around 
them. 

"This  is  going  to  be  a  banner  night,"  said  Henry, 
and  his  words  proved  correct,  so  far  as  the  cold  was 
concerned.  The  temperature  dropped  steadily  until 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  Dave  felt  as  if  he 
was  "breathing  icicles"  as  he  expressed  it.  It  was 
so  cold  that  nobody  could  sleep,  and  they  spent  the 
time  in  hugging  the  fire  and  in  driking  hot  coffee. 


ANOTHER  LONG  JOURNEY         193 

The  two  men  had  a  bottle  of  liquor,  of  which  they 
consumed  not  a  little.  The  liquor  was  offered  to  the 
two  youths,  but  each  declined. 

"I  think  we  are  better  off  without  it,"  said  Dave, 
and  Henry  said  the  same. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


A    NEW    MOVE 


All  were  glad  to  see  the  sun  rise  in  the  morning. 
The  storm  had  cleared  away,  the  wind  had  fallen, 
and  gradually  the  temperature  rose  once  more. 

"That  was  a  night  to  remember,"  said  Henry. 
"I  don't  want  to  be  out  in  anything  colder." 

"Nor  I,"  answered  his  cousin.  "Had  it  not  been 
for  the  roaring  fire  and  the  hot  coffee  we  might  have 
been  frozen  to  death." 

"I'd  rather  have  my  liquor  than  the  coffee,"  said 
Devine. 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Dave.  "Liquor 
may  heat  you  up  for  awhile,  but  it  will  make  you 
colder  afterwards." 

They  were  glad  enough  to  break  camp  and  walk 

just  for  the  sake  of  getting  warm.     But  they  were 

all  more  or  less  sleepy,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  day 

each  dozed  off  after  dinner.     That  night  they  found 

a  well-sheltered  spot,  and  got  a  rest  that  did  them 

a  world  of  good.     The  weather  was  still  cold,  but 

not  as  freezing  as  it  had  been. 

194 


A   NEW    MOVE  I95 

It  was  not  until  two  days  later  that  they  reached 
the  first  of  the  settlements,  and  after  that  they  slept 
each  night  in  either  a  log  cabin  or  some  other  shelter. 
The  folks  they  met  were  glad  to  do  what  they  could 
for  them,  although  this  was  but  little,  as  the  Indian 
war  had  left  them  all  comparatively  poor. 

"I've  got  to  start  just  where  I  began  twelve  years 
ago,"  said  one  old  settler.  "The  Injuns  didn't  leave 
me  a  thing  but  this  old  cow-shed.  We've  got  to 
build  a  new  cabin,  and  buy  some  stock,  and  do  a 
mountain  o'  work  to  get  the  place  into  shape  again." 
And  his  position  was  that  of  hundreds  of  others. 
Many  had  left  the  frontier  entirely,  not  car- 
ing to  make  a  living  where  there  was  so  much 
danger. 

Another  slight  snowstorm  was  encountered,  but 
the  party  kept  on  steadily,  and  soon  came  within 
sight  of  Will's  Creek.  Then,  one  clear  afternoon, 
both  Dave  and  Henry  set  up  a  loud  shout : 

"Rodney!" 

"Hello !"  was  the  answer,  and  Rodney,  who  was 
out  hunting,  turned  to  them  in  great  amazement. 
"Dave  and  Henry !  How  in  the  world  did  you  get 
here?" 

"Walked,"  answered  Henry.  "How  are  all  the 
folks  at  home  ?" 

"Everybody  is  doing  very  well.     But  this  is  cer- 


196  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

tainly  a  surprise.  Come  along  to  the  house.  The 
folks  will  be  wild  to  see  you,  mother  especially,"  and 
Rodney  gave  Henry  a  meaning  glance. 

They  soon  reached  the  log  cabin,  and  all  at  the 
place  rushed  out  to  give  them  a  warm  greeting. 
Mrs.  Morris  kissed  her  son  several  times  and  then 
kissed  Dave,  and  little  Nell  also  came  in  for  her 
share  of  caresses. 

"I  certainly  did  not  expect  you  at  this  season," 
said  Joseph  Morris.  "Perhaps  you  have  brought 
some  sort  of  a  message?"  and  he  looked  inquiringly 
at  his  son  and  his  nephew. 

"It's  about  father,"  said  Dave.  He  tried  to  go 
on,  but  his  voice  choked  up  and  he  motioned  for 
Henry  to  speak. 

Henry  told  the  tale  of  the  disaster  at  the  trading 
post,  just  as  it  had  been  related  by  Peaceful  Jones. 
Mr.  Morris  and  the  others  listened  with  keen  in- 
terest. Mrs.  Morris  burst  into  tears  and  Nell  did 
likewise. 

"Dave,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you !"  cried  his  aunt,  as 
she  hugged  the  youth  to  her  breast. 

"And  so  am  I !"  burst  out  Nell.  "Oh,  that  wicked, 
wicked  Jean  Bevoir !" 

"I  do  not  wonder  that  you  wished  to  bring  the 
news  home,"  said  Joseph  Morris.  "It  is  a  fearful 
state  of  affairs.     The  fight  must  have  been  a  losing 


A   NEW    MOVE  197 

one  from  the  start.  Peaceful  Jones  can  be  thankful 
that  he  escaped." 

"I  wanted  to  go  to  the  trading  post — to  get  some- 
body from  the  fort  to  go,"  said  Dave,  brokenly. 
"But  no  one  in  command  would  take  the  responsi- 
bility." 

"It  is  because  of  the  rumors  that  are  afloat,"  an- 
swered his  uncle.  "Some  say  Pontiac  is  going  to  do 
his  best  to  capture  Fort  Pitt  and  every  place  west  of 
Fort  Detroit." 

The  whole  evening  was  spent  in  discussing  the 
situation,  Dave  and  Henry  going  over  matters  just 
as  they  had  at  the  fort.  It  was  a  sober  home-com- 
ing, and  none  of  the  older  folks  thought  of  going  to 
bed  until  late.  Lawson  and  Devine  were  told  to 
make  themselves  at  home. 

"Sam  Barringford  has  gone  to  Fort  Cumberland 
on  business,"  said  Joseph  Morris,  in  reply  to  an  in- 
quiry from  Henry.  "He  will  be  back  to-morrow  or 
the  day  after." 

The  next  day  matters  were  talked  over  once  more, 
and  Dave  told  his  uncle  that  nothing  would  satisfy 
him  but  to  make  the  effort  to  reach  the  trading  post 
and  learn  the  truth  concerning  his  parent. 

"Well,  I  do  not  blame  you,  Dave,"  answered  his 
uncle.  "But  to  get  out  there  from  here  will  be  no 
easy  matter,  and  to  go  alone  or  with  only  a  handful 


198  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

of  men  would  be  folly.  By  this  time  Jean  Bevoit 
has  probably  put  the  post  in  a  good  state  of  defense, 
and,  since  Jones  escaped,  he  must  be  on  constant 
guard." 

"I  have  a  little  plan  to  suggest,  Uncle  Joe.  Why 
cannot  we  travel  almost  to  the  post  and  then  go  into 
quarters  somewhere  and  send  one  or  two  men  out  in 
quiet?  The  men  might  go  to  the  post,  pretend  to 
be  friendly  with  Bevoir,  and  state  that  Peaceful 
Jones  is  dead,  having  been  found  so  in  the  woods. 
Bevoir  may  then  expose  his  plans  and  relax  his 
vigilance,  and  we  can  watch  our  chances,  rush  in, 
and  take  possession." 

This  plan  appealed  strongly  to  Henry,  and  even 
Mr.  Morris  nodded  as  if  he  approved.  Still,  there 
were  many  things  to  consider,  the  planter  told  his 
nephew,  and  he  wanted  a  few  days  to  deliberate. 
That  night  he  talked  it  over  in  private  with  his  wife. 

"Dave  wants  to  find  out  the  truth  about  his  father, 
Lucy,"  said  the  planter.  "I  do  not  blame  him,  and  I 
want  to  find  out  the  truth  myself,  and  see  that  justice 
is  done.  If  he  goes  out  to  the  trading  post  I  feel  it 
will  be  my  duty  to  go  with  him." 

"But,  Joseph,  I  do  not  wish  to  stay  here  alone !" 
cried  Mrs.  Morris.  "Remember,  I  have  not  only 
Nell  but  the  twins  to  take  care  of !" 

"Henry  will  want  to  go  with  Dave,  since  they  are 


A   NEW    MOVE  I99 

like  brothers,"  continued  Joseph  Morris.  "But 
Rodney  can  remain  here,  and  so  can  some  of  the 
neighbors,  if  you  wish  it." 

"And  would  you  go  out  there  alone  with  the 
boys?" 

"No !  no !  by  no  means !  I  should  want  to  organ- 
ize a  regular  expedition,  and  have  the  men  sworn 
into  regular  army  service  at  the  fort.  Then,  when 
the  time  came,  we  could  deal  with  Bevoir  and  his 
men  in  true  military  style." 

"You  must  have  been  doing  a  deal  of  thinking 
about  this,  Joseph?" 

"And  why  not?  James  was  my  only  living 
brother,  and  he  was  very  dear  to  me." 

"And  he  was  dear  to  me  too,  and  I  think  of  Dave 
as  of  a  son.  But  I  hate  to  see  you  leave,  just  when 
we  thought  we  might  settle  down  again  as  of  old." 

"Poor  Dave  will  never  have  any  peace  of  mind 
until  he  knows  the  exact  truth." 

"True !  My  heart  aches  for  him.  Well,  Joseph, 
do  as  you  think  best.  But,  for  my  sake,  do  not  be 
rash !"  And  then  Mrs.  Morris  kissed  her  husband 
affectionately. 

The  next  day  Sam  Barringford  came  back  from 
Fort  Cumberland.  He  too  was  surprised  to  see  the 
new  arrivals  and  greatly  shocked  over  the  news 
they  had  brought. 


200  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"The  skunk !  The  dirty  skunk !"  cried  the  fron- 
tiersman, referring  to  Jean  Bevoir.  "Oh,  just  wait 
till  I  git  my  paws  on  him,  thet's  all !"  And  his  big 
frame  shook  with  emotion.  He  was  willing  to  start 
for  the  post  at  any  time  and  under  any  conditions. 

Barringford  had  brought  in  news  that  interested 
the  Morrises  as  much,  almost,  as  it  did  himself. 
At  Fort  Cumberland  he  had  met  a  French-English- 
man, who  had  just  arrived  from  Detroit.  This 
gentleman  knew  something  about  Maurice  Hamil- 
ton, the  father  of  the  twins,  and  said  that  Mr. 
Hamilton  was  not  in  England  but  in  this  country, 
although  exactly  where  he  could  not  tell.  He  had 
started  for  London  by  way  of  New  York,  but  had 
then  changed  his  mind  and  gone  to  Philadelphia. 

"As  soon  as  I  heard  thet,  I  sent  a  letter  to  Phila- 
delphia," said  Sam  Barringford.  "If  he's  thar  he'll 
most  likely  git  it  and  write  back,  or  come  on." 

"I  hope  he  does  come  on,"  said  Mrs.  Morris.  "I 
should  like  to  see  what  the  father  of  Tom  and  Artie 
looks  like." 

"I  don't  want  Tom  and  Artie  to  go  away,"  pouted 
Nell.     "I  love  them  and  I  want  them  to  stay  here." 

"Well,  they  are  not  going  away  just  yet,"  said 
Rodney,  to  quiet  his  sister. 

During  the  winter  a  great  many  trappers  and 
frontiersmen  remained  close  to  the  forts  and  settle- 


A   NEW   MOVE  201 

ments,  so  it  was  comparatively  easy  for  Joseph 
Morris  and  Dave  to  organize  the  expedition  that 
was  to  start  for  the  trading  post  on  the  Ohio.  The 
company  was  organized  upon  military  lines,  with 
Joseph  Morris  as  captain,  and  Dave  and  Henry  as 
first  and  second  lieutenants.  It  was  composed  of 
eighteen  men,  all  well  versed  in  shooting  and  in 
scouting.  As  an  old  army  sharpshooter,  Sam  Bar- 
ringford  was  placed  in  charge  of  the  advance  guard. 
The  company  took  along  a  pack-train  of  twelve 
horses,  each  animal  carrying  only  such  articles  as 
were  deemed  necessary  for  the  trip.  The  men  were 
told  why  the  expedition  had  been  formed,  and  each 
promised  to  stand  by  Mr.  Morris  to  the  end. 

While  the  preparations  were  being  made,  the 
holidays  came  and  went,  but  only  Nell  and  the  twins 
received  any  gifts,  the  minds  of  the  older  folks  being 
filled  with  other  matters. 

"I  couldn't  celebrate  Christmas  if  I  tried,"  said 
Dave  to  Henry.  "In  fact,  I  couldn't  celebrate  any- 
thing. All  I  want  to  do  is  to  find  out  the  truth  about 
father." 

"And  bring  Jean  Bevoir,  Benoit  Vascal,  and  those 
rascally  Indians  to  justice,"  added  Henry,  who 
always  looked  at  the  practical  side  of  affairs. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Asa  Dobson  and  his 
wife  should  remain  at  the  Morris  homestead  for  the 


202  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

time  being,  and  also  an  old  colored  man  known  as 
Pompey  Sugg.  Pompey  was  a  fine  shot,  and  said 
he  would  keep  a  constant  guard  against  Indians. 

"Dar  ain't  no  Injuns  gwine  ter  git  de  best  ob  dis 
chicken,"  said  the  colored  man.  "If  da  come  nosin' 
around  hyer  Pomp  will  gib  'em  a  dose  ob  buckshot, 
ki  hi !"  And  he  laughed  as  if  shooting  Indians  was 
the  best  joke  in  the  world.  He  was  known  to  be  a 
faithful  fellow,  and  Joseph  Morris  placed  great 
reliance  on  him. 

The  expedition  was  gotten  together  at  Fort  Cum- 
berland, but  the  actual  start  was  from  the  Morris 
homestead.  Here,  many  men  and  women  gathered 
to  see  the  party  off,  and  numerous  were  the  hand- 
shakes and  well-wishes.  Dave  received  a  warm  em- 
brace from  his  aunt. 

"Keep  up  your  courage,"  she  whispered  into  his 
ear.  "Remember,  Dave,  I  shall  always  be  a  mother 
*o  you,  and  your  Uncle  Joseph  will  be  a  father." 

"Yes,  I  know,  Aunt  Lucy,  and  you  are  very  kind," 
he  answered.  He  would  have  said  more,  but  the 
words  stuck  in  his  throat. 

"Take  good  care  o'  the  twins!"  called  out  Sam 
Barringford.  And  then  he  gave  each  a  tight  hug, 
for  he  did  not  know  but  that  their  father  would  be 
along  to  take  them  away  before  his  return. 

"Good-bye,   Lucy,"    said   Joseph   Morris,   to   his 


A   NEW    MOVE  203 

wife,  as  he  gave  her  a  last  embrace.  "Remember,  I 
shall  be  back  again  as  soon  as  possible.  Do  not 
worry  while  I  am  away." 

"How  can  I  help  but  worry?"  she  answered, 
through  her  tears.  "The  West  is  such  a  wild 
country,  and  the  Indians  and  those  wicked  French- 
men are  so  cruel !  If  you  give  them  the  chance, 
they  will  kill  you,  and  all  of  the  others,  too,  just  as 
they  did  brother  James  and  his  party !" 

"We  shall  try  to  be  careful." 

Everything  was  now  in  readiness  for  the  start,  and 
at  the  command  from  Joseph  Morris  the  men  fell 
into  place  and  set  off,  the  pack-horses  with  their 
drivers  occupying  the  middle  of  the  little  train.  The 
boundless  West  and  the  mighty  forest  lay  before 
them.     Would  they  succeed  or  fail  in  their  mission  ? 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A    FIGHT    AMONG    WILD    BEASTS 

"There  is  no  use  in  talking,  this  is  certainly  slow 
traveling.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  pack-horses  we  could 
get  along  twice  as  fast." 

It  was  Henry  who  spoke,  and  he  addressed  his 
father.  The  pair  were  trudging  along  the  snow- 
clad  trail,  with  Dave  and  Sam  Barringford  slightly 
in  advance.  It  was  a  mild,  clear  day  in  January, 
with  the  sun  kissing  every  mound  of  white  and  caus- 
ing it  to  glitter  as  if  with  diamonds. 

The  little  expedition  had  been  on  the  march  four 
days,  and  all  evidence  of  civilization  had  been  left 
behind.  They  were  taking  what  Sam  Barringford 
and  two  of  the  other  frontiersmen  considered  a 
"short  cut"  on  the  route  to  Fort  Pitt.  Whether  or 
not  they  would  stop  at  the  fort  when  they  arrived 
in  that  vicinity  was  still  an  open  question.  On  the 
one  hand,  they  did  not  wish  to  lose  the  time  to  do  so, 
and  on  the  other,  they  wanted  to  make  certain  that 
no  news  from  the  West  had  come  to  the  stronghold 
during  their  absence. 

204 


A   FIGHT   AMONG    WILD    BEASTS  205 

So  far  they  had  seen  no  trace  of  the  Indians — in- 
deed, they  had  met  no  strangers  of  any  kind.  The 
loneliness  of  the  wilderness  winter  was  on  all  sides 
of  them.  Sometimes  they  journeyed  for  hours 
through  the  untracked  snow  without  a  single  sound 
disturbing  them.  At  times  this  oppressiveness  was 
hard  on  Dave  and  caused  him  to  grow  so  "blue"  that 
he  hardly  knew  what  to  do.  Henry  tried  to  cheer 
him  up,  but  with  little  success. 

The  frontiersmen  were  all  of  the  silent  kind — 
their  calling  had  rendered  them  so — and  conversa- 
tion dragged,  enlivened  only  now  and  then  by  the 
talk  of  the  men  who  urged  along  the  horses.  The 
steeds  did  their  best,  but  the  footing  was  uncertain, 
and  more  than  once  they  went  down  into  pitfalls 
partly  covered  with  snow  and  had  to  be  hauled  out 
by  main  strength. 

"The  Injuns  have  certainly  left  this  neighbor- 
hood," observed  Sam  Barringford,  after  another 
spell  of  silence.     "Not  a  sign  on  'em  anywhere." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  answered  Joseph  Morris.  "I 
want  to  meet  nobody  until  we  arrive  at  Fort  Pitt  or 
the  trading  post." 

"When  I  war  to  Fort  Cumberland  I  heard  a  re- 
port about  Pontiac,"  went  on  the  old  frontiersman. 
"They  said  he  war  gohr  west — to  stir  up  the  red- 
skins along  the  Mississippi  and  lower  Ohio,  to  make 


206  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

another  attack  on  the  English.  It  war  said  the 
French  trappers  an'  traders  would  help  him." 

"Such  a  thing  is  possible,"  answered  Joseph  Mor- 
ris. "Of  one  thing  I  am  certain :  Pontiac  will  not 
rest  until  he  has  either  won  a  victory  or  been  killed." 

It  was  true  that  Pontiac  was  again  active,  this  time 
close  to  the  banks  of  the  Illinois  River.  Here  he 
essayed  to  unite  the  western  tribes  against  the  Eng- 
lish,— a  work  that  availed  him  little. 

The  Indian  uprisings  at  Fort  Pitt,  Detroit,  and 
other  points  had  created  a  terrible  feeling  against 
the  red  men  in  all  portions  of  the  Colonies,  but  this 
hatred  was  most  bitter  in  Pennsylvania,  especially 
in  Paxton  township,  where  a  large  body  of  settlers 
of  Irish  and  Scotch  blood  organized  themselves  into 
a  command  popularly  known  as  the  Paxton  Boys. 
This  command  hunted  down  the  Indians  on  all  sides, 
and  even  slaughtered  a  harmless  tribe,  living  under 
the  protection  of  some  Moravian  missionaries. 

"Down  with  all  redskins!"  was  their  cry,  and 
they  moved  upon  Lancaster,  where  some  Indians  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  workhouse.  The  doors  were 
battered  down  and  all  of  the  Indians  slain,  and  then 
the  Paxton  Boys  marched  down  to  Philadelphia,  to 
capture  some  of  the  enemy  who  had  fled  to  that  city. 
To  hold  the  maddened  frontiersmen  in  check,  Benja- 
min Franklin  aidecf  in  forming  a  body  of  militia, 


A   FIGHT  AMONG  WILD   BEASTS  20"J 

and  these  compelled  the  Paxton  Boys  to  leave  with- 
out further  bloodshed.  The  killing  of  the  friendly- 
Indians  was  looked  upon  by  the  law-abiding  citizens 
as  an  outrage  and  the  feeling  against  the  Paxton 
Boys  was  very  bitter.  On  their  side,  the  Paxton 
Boys  contended  that  the  Indians  had  all  proved 
treacherous  more  or  less  and  that  "the  only  good 
Indian  was  the  dead  Indian," — a  saying  that  soon 
became  a  household  word  among  a  certain  class  of 
the  communities. 

In  many  cases,  after  the  meeting  at  Johnson  Hall, 
the  Indians  were  compelled  to  give  up  their  captives, 
and  this  brought  on  numerous  affecting  scenes. 
Some  women  and  children  had  been  separated  from 
their  people  for  several  years,  and  had  made  warm 
'ties  among  the  Indians.  A  number  had  even  mar- 
ried red  men  and  had  children,  and  these  did  not 
want  to  separate  from  their  husbands.  Some  little 
children  had  completely  forgotten  their  real  parents, 
and  when  taken  from  the  Indians  cried  loudly,  much 
to  the  distress  of  their  mothers  and  fathers. 

"Look !  look !"  cried  one  poor  woman.  "My  own 
child,  my  Bessie,  does  not  know  me !" 

"And  look  you!"  said  one  man.  "My  Johanna 
has  married  an  Indian  and  they  have  two  children ! 
I  would  rather  she  were  dead!"  And  the  settler 
turned  and  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  his 


208  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

own  fiesh  and  blood.  Tradition  says  of  this  man 
that  in  years  after  the  Indian  husband  of  his  daugh- 
ter saved  him  from  being  massacred  during  an  up- 
rising, and  he  was  taken  to  safety  by  a  grandson 
whom  he  had  disowned. 

One  day  after  another  went  by,  and  still  the  ex- 
pedition under  Joseph  Morris  wended  its  way  west- 
ward through  the  wilderness.  So  far  the  weather 
had  remained  "fine,  but  at  the  end  of  a  week  it  began 
to  thaw  and  then  there  set  in  a  misty  rain,  disagree- 
able in  the  extreme.  The  trail  was  sloppy,  and  if 
a  person  slipped  down  he  was  bound  to  get  wet 
through  and  through. 

"This  is  fine  weather  in  which  to  catch  cold," 
grumbled  Henry.  The  only  thing  he  objected  to 
when  being  out  was  rain. 

During  the  rain  and  mist,  which  lasted  for  two 
whole  days,  they  made  but  slow  progress.  Each 
night  they  went  into  camp  early,  and  spent  several 
hours  in  getting  dry  and  making  themselves  half 
comfortable. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  when  it  cleared  off, 
Henry  and  Dave  were  in  advance,  in  company  with 
Sam  Barringford.  They  were  looking  for  game, 
and  hoped  to  stir  up  some  rabbits,  if  not  something 
larger. 

"I  see  some  partridges !"  cried  Henry,  presently, 


A   FIGHT   AMONG   WILD   BEASTS  209 

and  was  about  to  take  aim,  when  a  sudden  loud 
snapping  and  snarling  broke  upon  the  air,  coming 
from  the  forest  on  their  left. 

"Wild  animals!"  cried  Dave.  "Don't  you  think 
so,  Sam?" 

"I  do,"  was  the  short  answer.  "Come  on  an'  see 
wot  they  be." 

The  old  frontiersman  led  the  way,  and  soon  the 
party  of  three  came  upon  a  scene  that  thrilled  them 
with  interest. 

In  a  little  glade  in  the  forest  lay  a  dead  deer,  the 
blood  still  pouring  from  a  big  bite  in  the  throat. 
Close  at  hand  were  a  small  panther  and  a  full-grown 
wildcat,  tightly  locked  together,  and  biting  and  snap- 
ping in  the  most  vicious  manner  possible.  At  one 
moment  the  wildcat  would  be  on  top,  then  the 
panther,  and  then  they  would  roll  over  and  over,  the 
snow  and  fur  flying  in  all  directions.  The  blood 
was  flowing  from  a  gash  in  the  panther's  side  and  the 
wildcat's  left  ear  was  slitted  into  shreds. 

"Here  is  a  fight  surely!"  whispered  Barringford. 
"They  mean  business,  they  do !" 

"What  shall  we  do?"  whispered  Dave.  The  sight 
thrilled  him  to  the  core. 

"Let  'em  have  it  out,  lad — ain't  no  ust  to  interfere 
in  sech  a  muss  as  thet." 

The  two  animals  were  certainly  "having  it  out." 


2IO  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

Over  and  over  they  went  and  the  fur  continued  to 
fly.  The  wildcat  now  had  the  panther  by  the  neck, 
while  the  latter  was  twisted  half  around  and  was 
clawing  frantically,  trying  to  reach  its  enemy's 
vitals. 

"Looks  as  if  the  wildcat  would  get  the  best  of  it," 
observed  Henry.  But  at  that  moment  the  larger 
beast  shook  the  hold  of  the  other,  and  swinging 
around  caught  the  wildcat  in  the  stomach  with  its 
claws.  Then  the  wildcat  closed  in  with  another 
snarl,  catching  the  panther  in  the  lower  jaw.  It  was 
a  death-like  grip  that  could  not  be  shaken,  and  the 
animals  fell  over  on  their  sides.  The  fur  and  snow 
continued  to  fly,  but  both  animals  soon  grew  weaker. 
There  was  a  last  struggle,  a  gasp  from  the  wildcat, 
and  then  that  animal  stretched  out  dead.  The  hold 
on  the  panther's  jaw  relaxed  and  slowly  the  panther 
staggered  up.  It  went  but  a  few  steps,  then  fell 
down,  gave  a  grunt  or  two,  and  began  to  kick  feebly. 

"Both  on  'em  done  fer!"  said  Sam  Barringford. 
"It  war  certainly  a  great  fight." 

"The  painter  ain't  dead  yet!"  cried  Henry. 
"Look  out !" 

They  turned  and  saw  that  the  panther  was  trying 
to  get  up.  It  had  discovered  the  intruders  and 
wanted  to  fight.  It  gave  a  feeble  leap,  but  failed  to 
reach  them. 


A  FIGHT  AMONG  WILD   BEASTS  211 

"I'll  fix  thet  painter,"  murmured  Barringford,  and 
drew  his  hunting  knife. 

"Don't  touch  him — let  him  go,"  pleaded  Dave. 
"He  made  such  a  good  fight  against  the  wildcat." 
The  panther  had  turned  towards  the  bushes.  Now  it 
slunk  out  of  sight,  so  weak  that  it  could  scarcely 
drag  one  foot  after  another.  Before  they  left  the 
spot  they  saw  the  animal  breathe  its  last. 

They  examined  the  deer  and  found  it  had  suffered 
nothing  but  the  gaping  wound  in  the  throat,  made 
evidently  by  the  wildcat. 

"This  is  a  prize,"  said  Henry.  "It  saves  us  the 
trouble  of  shooting  one." 

"I  suppose  the  wildcat  brought  the  deer  down  and 
the  painter  wanted  to  steal  it,"  said  Dave.  "It's  a 
pretty  good-sized  deer  for  a  wildcat  to  tackle." 

"I  reckon  as  how  the  wildcat  war  half  starved  an' 
got  desprit,"  spoke  up  the  old  frontiersman.  "He 
must  have  jumped  down  on  the  deer  from  some  tree 
and  hung  on  till  the  deer  war  dead." 

The  others  had  by  this  time  come  up,  and  they 
looked  at  the  deer  with  interest.  The  game  was 
slung  over  the  back  of  one  of  the  horses  and  the  on- 
ward march  resumed.  That  night  all  enjoyed  the 
fresh  venison. 

On  the  following  day  they  came  to  a  fair-sized 
river,  and  there  encamped  for  their  noonday  repast. 


212  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

Taking  an  axe,  Henry  cut  a  round  hole  in  the  ice 
and  brought  forth  his  fishing  lines. 

"Going  to  try  fishing,  eh?"  said  Dave.  "All 
right,  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  help." 

They  soon  had  their  lines  ready,  and  baiting  up, 
allowed  them  to  sink  through  the  hole.  The  fish 
were  sluggish,  and  for  a  long  time  they  got  no  bite. 
But  then  came  a  lazy  tug,  and  hauling  in,  Henry 
brought  up  a  fat  fish  that  weighed  all  of  two  pounds. 

"Good  for  you,  Henry!"  cried  his  cousin.  "You 
always  were  lucky  at  this  sort  of  thing." 

"Not  always,"  answered  Henry,  grimly.  "I  have 
fished  through  the  ice  more  than  once  and  caught 
next  to  nothing." 

"I'll  never  forget  how  I  once  brought  up  a  snake 
and  then  fell  into  the  water,"  went  on  Dave,  recall- 
ing an  incident  already  related  in  detail  in  this  series. 

"No  more  snakes  for  me.     I  hate Gracious ! 

Look  at  that !     A  snake  as  sure  as  you're  born !" 

Dave's  line  and  hook  came  up.  On  the  end  was 
something  dark  and  slimy.  Henry  started  back  and 
then  gave  a  laugh. 

"Only  an  old  tree-root,  Dave !"  he  cried,  merrily. 
"Don't  holler  before  you  are  hurt." 

"I  was  thinking  of  that  other  snake,"  answered 
his  cousin,  somewhat  sheepishly.  He  dropped  in 
his  hook  again.     "Hope  I  get  a  bite  this  time." 


A   FIGHT   AMONG   WILD    BEASTS  213 

His  wish  was  gratified.  Fishing  proved  so  good 
that  the  youths  persuaded  Mr.  Morris  to  let  them 
continue  for  awhile,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  they 
had  a  full  mess  for  supper.  The  men  enjoyed  the 
change  greatly,  and  told  Henry  and  Dave  they  could 
go  fishing  at  every  river  the  expedition  crossed. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    RESCUE    OF    THE    STRANGER 

A  few  days  later  brought  the  expedition  to  Fort 
Pitt.  Captain  Ecuyer  was  surprised  to  see  Dave 
and  Henry  back  so  soon,  and  praised  them  for  the 
rapid  time  they  had  made.  But  he  shook  his  head 
when  he  listened  to  the  further  plans  of  the 
party. 

"I  believe  you  are  taking  a  great  risk,"  said  he. 
"I  have  been  sending  out  scouts  within  the  last  week, 
and  their  reports  are  far  from  satisfactory.  They 
have  seen  Indians  at  a  distance,  and  there  is  not  the 
slightest  doubt  but  that  this  stronghold  is  being 
watched  closely." 

"It  is  queer  then  that  we  were  not  attacked  in 
coming  here,"  answered  Joseph  Morris.  "We  kept 
a  careful  watch,  but  saw  no  enemy." 

"Perhaps  your  guard  saved  you,"  said  the  com- 
mandant of  the  fort.  "But,  remember,  it  will  be 
different  when  you  go  westward  from  here.     The 

214 


THE   RESCUE   OF   THE    STRANGER  21 5 

Indians  are  surely  gathering  in  the  West,  and  what 
they  intend  to  do,  Heaven  alone  knows.  Were  I 
you  I  should  at  least  wait  until  spring  before  ventur- 
ing further." 

Dave  would  not  listen  to  this,  and  Henry  sided 
with  his  impatient  cousin,  knowing  well  how  anxious 
Dave  was  to  learn  the  truth  concerning  his  father. 
Joseph  Morris  realized  the  situation,  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that  he,  too,  was  anxious,  since  his  brother 
had  been  very  dear  to  him.  A  consultation  was  held, 
and  it  was  resolved  that  the  expedition  should  rest 
at  Fort  Pitt  until  over  Sunday — four  days — and 
then  push  forward  as  before. 

The  coming  of  the  expedition  to  Fort  Pitt  brought 
a  smile  to  the  face  of  Peaceful  Jones,  who  was  slowly 
recovering  from  the  privation  to  which  he  had  been 
exposed. 

"It's  an  outright  shame  I  can't  go  with  ye !"  said 
the  old  trapper,  with  a  profound  sigh.  "Wouldn't 
like  no  better  fun  nor  to  lick  Jean  Bevoir  an'  his 
crowd  good !" 

"Don't  worry  about  thet,  Peaceful,"  answered 
Sam  Barringford.  "Only  give  us  the  chanct  an' 
we'll  lick  Bevoir  an'  his  crowd  good  an'  proper,  be- 
lieve me !" 

"Thet  feller  ain't  fit  to  be  on  this  airth,  Sam — he's 
wuss  nor  a  snake  in  the  grass !" 


2l6  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

"I  agree  with  ye,  Peaceful,  an'  when  I  git  through 
with  him  he'll  be  wuss  off  nor  any  snake  ye  ever 
heard  tell  on,"  concluded  the  old  frontiersman. 

From  Fort  Pitt  the  expedition  took  to  the  trail 
James  Morris  had  followed  in  journeying  to  his 
trading  post.  The  January  thaw  was  a  thing  of 
the  past,  and  once  again  cold  weather,  with  several 
heavy  falls  of  snow,  reigned  supreme.  The  trail 
was  in  spots  all  but  impassable,  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  they  had  to  literally  dig  the  horses  out  of 
the  drifts  into  which  they  wandered.  Twice  they 
had  to  go  into  camp  for  two  days  at  a  time — to  rest 
up  and  wait  for  the  skies  to  clear.  It  was  a  weari- 
some and  courage-testing  journey,  as  even  stout- 
limbed  Sam  Barringford  testified. 

"It's  pure  grit  an'  nuthin  else  is  goin'  to  carry  us 
through,"  said  he.  "Fer  this  travelin'  ain't  fit  fer  a 
dog." 

"There  is  one  comfort, — it  is  keeping  the  Indians 
away  from  us,"  answered  Joseph  Morris.  "They 
won't  venture  very  far  from  their  villages  in  this 
sort  of  weather." 

But  Joseph  Morris  was  mistaken.  All  unknown 
to  the  whites,  the  red  men  were  watching  their  move- 
ments closely.  Even  though  the  expedition  had  left 
Fort  Pitt  under  cover  of  darkness  the  Indians  had 
discovered  them  on  the  western  trail  early  in  the 


THE    RESCUE   OF   THE   STRANGER  217 

morning,  and  now  speedy  runners  were  carrying  the 
news  to  various  villages  for  fifty  miles  around. 

Soon  a  counter  expedition,  under  Eagle  Nose, — a 
well-known  Maumee  River  warrior, — was  sent  out, 
to  do  battle  with  the  coming  white  men.  The 
Indians  in  this  detachment  numbered  about  thirty 
warriors,  all  young  and  eager  to  fight.  They  ad- 
vanced over  the  snow  on  snowshoes,  and  as  soon  as 
they  came  up  to  the  trail  of  Joseph  Morris's  expedi- 
tion went  into  hiding. 

"Let  us  wait  until  the  hated  English  sleep,"  said 
Eagle  Nose.  "Then  we  can  kill  them  all  and  take 
their  goods  and  horses  back  to  our  lodges  with  us." 
It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  it  was  Eagle  Nose 
and  his  men  who  had,  the  year  before,  fallen  on  an 
English  detachment  near  Venango  and  murdered  all 
the  soldiers,  mutilating  some  of  the  bodies  most 
horribly.  For  this  Eagle  Nose  became  afterwards 
known  as  the  Red  Butcher, — an  appellation  that 
clung  to  him  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

On  the  afternoon  that  the  Indians  came  upon  the 
trail  of  the  whites,  Sam  Barringford  set  out  on  a 
hunt,  taking  Dave  and  Henry  with  him.  A  halt  had 
been  made,  to  rest  up  before  climbing  through  a 
hollow  all  but  filled  with  snow.  The  old  frontiers- 
man and  the  two  youths  took  themselves  into  the 
woods  where  the  snow  was  not  so  deep,  and  there 


2l8  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

presently  came  upon  the  tracks  of  some  big  animal 
which  Barringford  declared  must  be  an  elk. 

"Let  us  get  him  by  all  means !"  cried  Henry,  en- 
thusiastically. 

The  others  were  willing  enough,  and  followed  the 
tracks  of  the  elk  a  distance  of  quarter  of  a  mile. 
Here  they  came  to  something  of  a  buffalo  trail,  and 
were  surprised  to  behold  the  prints  of  many  feet  and 
of  snowshoes. 

"Sam,  what  does  this  mean?"  demanded  Dave, 
quickly. 

The  old  frontiersmen  did  not  answer  at  once,  but 
examined  the  prints  with  care.  Then  he  brought 
his  teeth  together  with  a  snap — a  sure  sign  that  he 
had  made  an  important  discovery. 

"Injuns!"  he  said,  laconically.     "Injuns!" 

"Indians!" 

"Aye,  lad — twenty  or  more  on  'em,  too, — an' 
headed  up  along  close  to  the  trail  we  made  this 
morning." 

"They  must  be  following  us,"  broke  in  Henry. 

"It  looks  like  it." 

"Do  you  think  they  mean  to  attack  us,  Sam?" 
questioned  Dave. 

"They  will  ef  they  git  the  chanct,  Dave.  It  ain't 
in  human  nature  fer  'em  not  to — thet  is,  if  they  be 
enemies." 


THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  STRANGER      2  I  9 

"They  might  be  friends." 

"Wall,  I  wouldn't  gamble  on  thet,  out  here." 

"What  had  we  best  do  ?" 

"You  an'  Henry  can  go  back  and  tell  Mr.  Morris 
about  it.     I'll  go  on  an'  do  a  little  scout  work." 

So  it  was  decided,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  Dave 
and  Henry  were  on  their  way  to  the  spot  where  the 
expedition  had  encamped.  Sam  Barringford  fol- 
lowed the  trail  of  the  Indians,  moving  along  with 
the  secrecy  that  years  of  experience  had  given  him. 

"We  must  lose  no  time  in  getting  back  to  camp," 
said  Henry,  as  he  and  his  cousin  hurried  along. 
"Every  moment  may  be  precious." 

"Right  you  are,  Henry.     Oh,  I  hope  we  escape !" 

"Captain  Ecuyer  must  have  been  right — we  have 
been  watched." 

Their  hurried  entrance  into  camp  created  some 
consternation,  and  the  story  they  had  to  tell  made 
every  one  uneasy.  A  council  of  war  was  held,  and 
the  camp  was  moved  to  another  spot,  where  the  fron- 
tiersmen might  make  a  better  stand,  in  case  of  an 
attack. 

Two  anxious  hours  went  by,  and  all  looked  for  the 
return  of  Sam  Barringford,  but  he  did  not  come. 
Then  it  began  to  grow  dark,  and  guards  were  posted 
all  around  the  camp,  to  give  the  alarm  at  the  first 
appearance  of  any  Indians. 


220  TRAIL    AND   TRADING    POST 

Dave  was  on  guard  duty,  close  to  some  rocks 
which  the  wind  had  swept  clear  of  snow,  when  he 
saw  a  figure  stealing  across  an  open  glade  a  short 
distance  away.  Hardly  had  the  figure  appeared 
when  two  Indians  came  into  view,  each  with  a  bow 
and  arrows.  Both  red  men  aimed  at  the  other 
figure  and  sent  an  arrow  on  its  way.  The  figure 
threw  up  its  arms  and  pitched  headlong  in  the  snow, 
beside  a  clump  of  bushes. 

"It  must  be  Sam  Barringford !"  cried  the  youth,  to 
himself.     "Sam — and  he  has  been  shot !" 

It  was  an  awful  thought,  and  for  the  moment 
Dave  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Then,  as  the  Indians 
came  closer,  he  took  aim  at  one  with  his  rifle  and 
blazed  away.  The  Indian  staggered  and  fell,  and 
then  dragged  himself  back  from  the  direction  he 
had  come,  seriously  wounded.  The  second  Indian 
ran  away  and  was  quickly  lost  to  view  in  the  tall 
timber. 

Dave  was  busy  reloading,  when  his  uncle  rushed 
up,  followed  by  two  frontiersmen,  all  with  their 
rifles  in  readiness  to  resist  an  attack. 

"What  was  it,  Dave?"  questioned  his  uncle. 
And  when  told,  he  added:  "Was  it  Sam?" 

"I    think    so.       He    dropped There    he    is 

now!" 

As  the  vouth  uttered  the  words  the  man  who  had 


THE    RESCUE   OF   THE   STRANGER  221 

fallen  picked  himself  up  in  a  dazed  way.  He  walked 
a  few  paces  in  one  direction  and  then  turned  and 
walked  in  another.  Clearly  he  did  not  know  what 
he  was  doing. 

"He  has  been  struck  and  is  hurt,"  said  Joseph 
Morris.  "Hello,  come  this  way!"  he  called  out. 
"Come  this  way!" 

The  man  at  first  paid  no  attention,  but  presently  he 
came  towards  them,  reeling  and  staggering  from 
weakness.  One  arrow  was  sticking  through  his 
arm,  and  the  second  had  grazed  the  back  of  his 
head. 

"Save  me!"  he  moaned.  "Don't  let  the — them 
ki— kill  me!" 

"We'll  do  what  we  can  for  you,"  answered  Joseph 
Morris,  and  ran  to  take  the  man  by  the  arm.  He 
was  an  utter  stranger,  tall  and  slim,  with  curly 
black  hair  and  dark  eyes.  His  clothing  had  once 
been  of  the  best,  but  was  now  much  soiled  and  in 
rags. 

"The  Indians — they  are  all  coming!"  gasped  the 
man,  when  he  felt  able  to  speak  once  more.  "They 
have  plotted  to  fall  upon  a  pack-train  bound  for  th — 
the  we — west.     I  was  their  prisoner  and  thought 

to — to  get  to  the  pack-train  and  warn  them  of " 

He  tried  to  go  on,  but  could  not,  and  sank  a  leaden 
weight  in  Joseph  Morris's  arms. 


222  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   TOST 

"Poor  fellow,  he  is  almost  clone  for,"  said 
one  of  the  frontiersmen.  "I  don't  think  he  will 
live." 

"Let  us  carry  him  into  camp,"  answered  Joseph 
Morris.  "He  may  not  be  so  badly  hurt  as  you 
think." 

The  two  frontiersmen  who  had  come  up  with  Mr. 
Morris  picked  the  senseless  form  up  and  hurried  to 
the  camp  with  it,  where  they  did  what  they  could  for 
the  sufferer.  In  the  meantime  Joseph  Morris  did  a 
little  scouting  around,  but  could  see  nothing  more  of 
the  Indians. 

"The  alarm  has  frightened  them  off  for  the  time 
being,"  said  Mr.  Morris.  "They  may  be  too 
cowardly  to  attack  us  while  we  are  wide-awake  and 
on  the  watch." 

Fortunately  for  the  whites,  the  night  proved  to  be 
an  exceptionally  clear  one,  with  the  stars  glittering 
in  the  heavens  like  so  many  diamonds.  It  was  quiet, 
saving  for  the  far-away  howls  of  some  wolves  and 
the  occasional  bark  of  a  fox  or  hoot  of  an  owl.  But 
the  frontiersmen  kept  on  guard,  not  knowing  what 
each  succeeding  minute  might  bring  forth. 

The  man  who  had  been  brought  in  still  lay  un- 
conscious and  breathing  heavily.  He  was  a  hand- 
some individual,  all  of  forty  years  of  age,  and 
evidently  of  good  breeding.     His  face  was  pale,  as  if 


THE   RESCUE   OF   THE   STRANGER  223 

he  had  suffered  much  during  his  captivity  among  the 
Indians. 

"I  wish  he  was  well  enough  to  tell  his  tale,"  said 
Henry.  "He  might  relate  something  to  our  ad- 
vantage." 

As  the  hours  slipped  by  all  the  Morrises  became 
anxious  over  the  prolonged  absence  of  Sam  Bar- 
ringford.  At  the  most  they  had  not  expected  the  old 
frontiersman  to  remain  away  later  than  midnight. 

"Perhaps  something  has  happened  to  him,"  said 
Henry.     "Those  Indians  are  mighty  slick." 

"Oh,  don't  say  that !"  cried  Dave.  "Sam  knew 
exactly  what  he  was  doing,  and  he  ought  to  be  able 
to  take  care  of  himself." 

"He  may  have  walked  into  some  trap.  You  must 
remember,  Dave,  that  some  of  the  redskins  out  here 
are  slyer  than  those  in  the  East.  They  are  regular 
foxes  on  the  warpath." 

Slowly  the  night  wore  away,  until  a  glow  in  the 
east  announced  the  coming  of  another  day.  The 
man  who  had  been  brought  in  was  now  conscious, 
but  so  weak  he  could  scarcely  speak.  He  wanted  to 
tell  them  something,  but  could  not,  and  sank  back 
again  utterly  exhausted. 

"Take  it  easy,"  said  Joseph  Morris,  kindly.  "We 
will  do  what  we  can  for  you."  And  at  this,  the  man 
tried  to  smile,  but  it  was  a  dismal  failure. 


224  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    TOST 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  said  Dave,  who  had  come  up 
a  moment  before.  "Did  you  meet  another  white 
man  .  in  the  woods — a  frontiersman,  one  of  our 
men  ?" 

At  this  the  man  shook  his  head.  "Nobody — 
on — only  Indians !"  he  gasped. 

"Then  something  has  certainly  happened  to  Sam," 
said  Dave,  and  gave  a  sigh  that  came  from  the  very 
bottom  of  his  young  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

SNOWBOUND    ON    THE    TRAIL 

Another  council  of  war  was  held,  and  two  of  the 
frontiersmen  went  scouting  around  once  more.  Not 
a  sign  was  to  be  seen  of  the  Indians,  and  at  last 
Joseph  Morris  concluded  to  advance  as  before,  but 
with  everybody  on  the  alert. 

"If  Sam  comes  back  to  this  point  he  will  know 
that  we  have  gone  on  and  can  follow  us  up,"  said 
the  planter. 

The  sick  man  had  to  be  carried  on  a  stretcher,  and 
the  men  took  turns  at  the  task.  As  soon  as  break- 
fast was  had,  the  expedition  moved,  three  frontiers- 
men well  to  the  front,  on  the  watch  for  the  first  sign 
of  the  enemy. 

Thus  a  mile  had  been  covered,  and  they  were  ap- 
proaching a  spot  where  their  route  lay  between  a 
cliff  and  a  hill,  when  an  interruption  came  from  the 
rear.  The  expedition  halted,  and  a  minute  later 
Sam  Barringford  came  up  on  a  run,  and  well-nigh 
exhausted. 

"I  war  afraid  ye'd  move  afore  I  got  back,"  panted 
225 


226  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

the  old  frontiersman.  "Ye  hadn't  ought  to  have 
done  it.  You  be  a-walkin'  right  into  a  hornets' 
nest." 

"Where  have  you  been  ?"  questioned  Dave. 

"Been  follerin'  them  Injuns.  They  are  a  bad 
crowd  under  Eagle  Nose,  an'  they  mean  to  wipe  us 
out,  if  they  kin  do  it.  They  held  a  grand  pow-wow 
last  night,  and  they  have  moved  forward  to  the  cliff 
and  the  hill  thet's  ahead.  When  we  go  through  be- 
low they  reckoned  to  shoot  us  down  with  bullets  an' 
arrows,  an'  roll  some  big  rocks  down  on  us.  I 
waited  to  learn  jest  what  they  war  up  to  an'  thet 
kept  me  from  gittin'  back  to  camp  afore." 

Sam  Barringford,  after  that,  related  his  night's 
adventures  in  detail.  At  no  time  had  the  Indians 
seen  him  or  suspected  his  presence,  and  he  had  been 
so  close  that  he  had  even  stolen  a  gun  belonging  to 
one  of  them,  a  weapon  of  ancient  French  make, 
which  he  now  had  with  him. 

Having  no  desire  to  run  into  the  "hornets'  nest" 
which  the  old  frontiersman  had  described,  Joseph 
Morris  determined  to  move  onward  by  another 
route.  This  suited  Barringford,  but  he  was  of  a 
mind  to  attack  the  Indians  because  of  the  plot  they 
had  concocted. 

"We  must  teach  'em  a  lesson,"  he  said.  "If  we 
don't,  it  won't  be  safe  travelin'  for  us  at  any  time." 


SNOWBOUND   ON   THE   TRAIL  227 

This  was  considered  sound  advice  by  many 
present,  and  in  the  end  it  was  decided  that  six  men 
should  climb  the  hill  ahead,  coming  out  above  the 
Indians  if  possible.  The  rest  of  the  expedition,  in 
the  meantime,  was  to  move  onward  around  the  cliff, 
making  a  wide  detour,  to  avoid  all  possible  contact 
with  the  enemy. 

"I  want  to  go  with  Sam,"  said  Henry  to  his 
father,  and  was  at  last  permitted  to  accompany  the 
old  frontiersman.  Dave  had  to  remain  with  the 
others,  to  help  take  care  of  the  horses  and  the  sick 
man. 

Sam  Barringford  knew  exactly  where  he  was 
going,  having  traveled  the  ground  several  times  in 
the  past.  He  was  a  natural-born  woodsman,  and 
never  forgot  a  locality  once  he  had  visited  it.  To 
him  trees  and  rocks  were  the  same  as  signboards  to 
a  dweller  in  the  city.  The  only  time  he  got  lost  was 
when  a  territory  was  entirely  new  to  him. 

The  way  was  by  no  means  an  easy  one  and,  when 
the  top  of  the  hill  was  reached,  the  tramp  through 
the  snow  had  taken  the  wind  out  of  more  than  one 
of  the  detachment.  The  men  and  Henry  rested  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  then,  cautioned  by  Barringford, 
moved  slowly  and  cautiously  over  the  hilltop  in  the 
direction  of  the  trail  far  below. 

''Halt!"  whispered  Sam  Barringford,  presently. 


228  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"I  see  an  Injun !"  And  he  pointed  out  the  red  war- 
rior two  hundred  feet  or  more  below  them. 

The  Indian  was  watching  the  trail  below,  and  soon 
he  was  joined  by  ten  or  a  dozen  others.  The  In- 
dians were  totally  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  some 
white  men  were  looking  down  upon  them,  and  their 
eyes  were  fixed  steadfastly  upon  the  trail  below, 
watching  for  the  first  appearance  of  the  Morris 
expedition. 

"What  a  trap!"  murmured  Henry.  "Had  we 
been  caught  in  it,  nothing  could  have  saved  us." 

"Right  you  are,  Henry,"  said  another  of  the  party. 
"Sam  deserves  a  good  deal  of  credit  for  saving  us." 

To  give  the  others  of  the  expedition  time  to  get 
as  far  as  possible  from  the  scene  of  action,  it  was 
decided  to  wait  awhile  before  beginning  an  attack 
on  the  Indians.  The  latter  waited  patiently  for  over 
an  hour,  when  they  began  to  show  some  uneasiness, 
thinking  their  plot  had  miscarried. 

"Now  we'll  show  'em  a  trick  or  two,"  said  Sam 
Barringford,  and  gave  the  order  to  advance. 

The  Indians  were  taken  completely  by  surprise, 
and  at  the  first  fire  of  the  English  three  fell,  one  dead 
and  the  others  mortally  wounded.  One  other  was 
struck  in  the  thigh  and  rolled  down  the  hill  on  to 
the  trail  below. 

"Give  it  to  'em  aeain!"  roared  Sam  Barringford. 


SNOWBOUND   ON   THE   TRAIL  229 

"Give  it  to  'em,  the  sons  o'  Satan !"  And  he  fired  a 
second  time,  while  some  of  the  others  did  the  same. 
Another  Indian  went  down,  and  then  the  rest  fled, 
in  several  directions.  The  whites  went  after  them, 
and  in  the  end  fully  half  of  the  band  under  Eagle 
Nose  were  exterminated.  Eagle  Nose  himself  was 
struck  in  the  left  forearm,  and  withdrew  with  the 
rest  of  his  warriors,  vowing  bitter  vengeance. 

Of  the  whites,  strange  to  state,  not  one  was  in- 
jured, although  the  red  men  fired  arrows  and  shots 
at  them  many  times.  One  arrow  went  through  the 
hunting  shirt  of  one  of  the  frontiersmen,  and  a 
bullet  clipped  the  cap  of  another,  and  that  was  all. 
The  Indians  fled  to  the  northward,  and  that  was  the 
last  seen  of  them  for  a  long  while  to  come.  Some 
were  very  bitter  against  Eagle  Nose  for  leading 
them  into  a  trap,  as  they  expressed  it,  and  there  was 
some  talk  of  deposing  the  chief,  but  nothing  came 
of  this. 

"Sam,  you  saved  us  from  utter  annihilation,"  said 
Joseph  Morris,  when  the  two  parts  of  the  expedition 
had  been  once  more  united.  "I  thank  you  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,"  and  he  gave  the  old  frontiers- 
man's hand  a  tight  squeeze. 

"I  wish  I  had  been  in  that  fight,"  said  Dave  to 
Henry.     "It  must  have  been  exciting." 

"It  was,  but  not  as  much  so  as  some  of  the  fights 


230  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

we  had  during  the  war,"  answered  his  cousin.  "We 
had  the  Indians  on  the  run  from  the  very  start." 

No  time  was  now  lost  in  moving  forward,  it  being 
Joseph  Morris's  wish  to  leave  the  Indians  as  far 
behind  as  possible.  They  traveled  until  late  at 
night,  when  they  reached  a  safe  shelter  among  the 
rocks  and  trees.  It  was  now  cloudy  once  more,  and 
soon  after  they  went  into  camp  it  began  to  snow. 

"We  are  in  for  a  heavy  fall,"  said  Dave,  and  he 
was  right.  The  snow  continued  all  night  and  all  of 
the  next  day,  and  still  there  was  no  let-up  to  the 
storm.  They  remained  in  the  temporary  camp, 
watching  the  fall  anxiously. 

"Dave,  I  really  believe  we  are  going  to  be  snowed 
in !"  cried  Henry,  as  he  walked  outside,  to  get  a  good 
look  at  the  sky.  "It  doesn't  seem  to  brighten  up  a 
bit!" 

"Just  what  I  am  thinking,"  answered  his  cousin. 
"It  is  certainly  coming  down  as  thickly  as  ever." 

All  were  now  watching  the  snowfall,  and  they 
went  to  bed  with  anxious  hearts.  Dave  woke  up 
just  at  dawn.  The  snow  had  stopped,  but  there  was 
more  overhead,  as  he  could  easily  see. 

"If  only  this  storm  had  kept  off  a  few  days 
longer,"  sighed  Joseph  Morris.  Three  days  of  fair 
traveling  would  have  brought  the  expedition  to  the 
vicinity  of  the  trading  post. 


SNOWBOUND   ON   THE   TRAIL  23 1 

Breakfast  was  had,  and  all  were  wondering  if 
they  could  make  any  headway  in  such  a  depth  of 
snow  when  the  flakes  began  to  come  down  again. 
The  whole  landscape  was  blotted  out  in  a  sea  of 
whirling  flakes. 

"That  settles  it;  we  remain  here,"  grumbled  Dave. 
The  nearer  he  drew  to  the  trading  post  the  more 
anxious  he  became  to  learn  the  whole  truth  of  the 
situation  there. 

The  men  of  the  expedition  made  themselves  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  and  not  to  be  caught  with- 
out provisions,  some  went  out  on  a  short  hunt. 
They  managed  to  bring  down  a  few  birds,  but  that 
was  all — not  worth  the  powder  and  shot,  as  Bar- 
ringford  declared. 

Dave  was  greatly  interested  in  the  sick  man,  who 
dozed  away  the  greater  portion  of  the  time.  Once 
or  twice  the  youth  tried  to  engage  the  man  in  con- 
versation, but  the  effort  was  a  failure. 

"I'll  have  to  wait  till  he  feels  more  like  himself," 
said  Dave  to  Henry.  "One  thing  is  certain,  he  is 
not  used  to  a  life  in  the  open  or  used  to  roughing  it 
in  any  way." 

"It  is  queer  how  he  came  among  the  Indians, 
Dave.  He  will  most  likely  have  quite  a  story  to  tell 
— if  he  is  ever  able  to  tell  it." 

"Oh,  I  think  he  will  recover,  don't  you?" 


232  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

"Yes,  physically,  but "     And  Henry  shrugged 

his  shoulders. 

"You  think  it  will  affect  him  here?"  And  Dave 
tapped  his  forehead. 

"Perhaps.  Don't  you  remember  Dick  Barsbee? 
He  went  crazy  from  the  Indian  tortures  he  endured." 

"Yes,  I  remember  that."  Dave  shook  his  head. 
"I  hope  the  man  comes  around  all  right.  I  must 
say  there  is  something  about  him  that  interests  me  a 
great  deal." 

"Does  his  face  look  familiar  to  you?" 

"It  certainly  does, — but  I  can't  trace  the  likeness 
to  save  myself." 

"It's  the  same  way  with  me,  and  Sam  Barringford 
says  the  same.     Now  what  can  it  mean  ?" 

"We  may  find  out  when  we  learn  who  the  man  is." 

The  snow  continued  all  of  that  day  and  far  into 
the  night.  Then  the  wind  arose,  sweeping  great 
drifts  of  white  across  the  landscape.  The  expedi- 
tion was  under  the  shelter  of  a  cliff  and  some  trees, 
and  was  snowed  in  beyond  a  doubt. 

"Snowbound!"  cried  Sam  Barringford,  grimly. 
"Here  we  be  an'  here  we  are  likely  to  stay  fer  some 
time  to  come." 

"We  are  certainly  shut  in  pretty  well,"  returned 
Joseph  Morris.  "At  the  best,  we'll  have  to  dig  our 
way  out." 


SNOWBOUND   ON   THE   TRAIL  233 

"The  hosses  could  never  git  through  on  the  trail," 
put  in  one  of  the  frontiersmen.  "It  would  be  cruelty 
to  try  it.  Why,  the  snow  must  be  ten  an'  twelve 
feet  deep  in  some  o'  the  hollows." 

"And  we'd  lose  our  way,"  said  another.  "Might 
as  well  stay  where  we  are  and  be  comfortable  until 
it  clears  a  bit."  He  was  troubled  with  soreness  of 
the  feet,  and  found  traveling  very  hard. 

"We  can't  stay  here  very  long,"  said  Joseph 
Morris.  "We  have  lost  so  much  time  our  pro- 
visions are  running  low." 

The  matter  was  discussed  for  an  hour,  and  they 
decided  to  remain  in  the  camp  and  make  themselves 
as  comfortable  as  possible.  The  snow  was  banked 
up  for  shelter,  and  pine  boughs  cut  for  couches,  and  a 
roaring  fire  was  kept  going  all  the  while. 

"It's  a  pity  we  must  stay  here,"  sighed  Dave.  "I 
think  if  we  could  reach  the  post  in  such  weather  as 
this  we  would  take  Jean  Bevoir  and  his  crowd  com- 
pletely by  surprise." 

"I  think  so  myself,"  replied  Henry.  "But  we 
must  be  patient,  and  take  matters  as  they  come." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

CRUSHING    NEWS 

The  expedition  had  to  remain  in  camp  for  the 
best  part  of  a  week,  and  during  that  time  provisions 
ran  exceedingly  low.  To  stock  the  larder  several  of 
the  men,  and  also  Dave  and  Henry,  went  out  in  the 
near-by  woods  and  shot  whatever  came  into  sight. 
The  two  youths  were  fortunate  in  bringing  down 
several  wild  turkeys  of  good  size  and  also  uncovered 
a  sleeping  bear  that  they  killed  with  ease.  This 
meat  came  in  when  the  stock  of  provisions  was  at  its 
lowest,  and  proved  highly  acceptable. 

At  last  the  trail  seemed  to  be  fit  to  use  once  more, 
and  Joseph  Morris  ordered  the  advance  to  be  made. 
It  was  hard  walking,  either  on  foot  or  on  snowshoes, 
and  many  times  the  poor  horses  refused  to  go  an- 
other step  and  had  to  rest  for  an  hour  at  a  time. 
Six  miles  were  all  they  could  cover  the  first  day  after 
starting,  and  the  youths  felt  as  tired  as  if  they  had 
walked  five  times  that  distance.  Moving  the  sick 
stranger  was  a  harder  task  than  ever,  but  nobody 
thought  of  leaving  him  behind. 

234 


CRUSHING   NEWS  235 

The  second  day,  however,  brought  an  improve- 
ment. They  gained  a  small  creek  flowing  into  the 
Kinotah  and  followed  this  to  the  larger  stream. 
Walking  on  the  ice  was  easier  than  in  the  snow. 
Occasionally  one  or  another  would  slip  down,  but 
nobody  complained. 

"We  are  at  the  old  post !"  cried  Dave,  as  the  burnt 
district  came  into  view.  They  stopped  for  dinner 
on  the  spot,  and  then  took  their  way  down  the 
Kinotah  to  the  Ohio. 

The  weather  was  now  moderating  rapidly,  so  that 
during  the  middle  of  the  day  the  sun  was  positively 
warm.  Much  of  the  snow  turned  to  slush  and 
water,  freezing  a  little  at  night  and  thawing  more 
than  ever  during  the  day.  The  surface  of  the  river 
became  wet,  and  Joseph  Morris  cautioned  all  against 
stepping  on  ice  that  might  be  rotten. 

"If  this  weather  keeps  on  it  won't  be  long  before 
there  is  a  spring  freshet,"  remarked  Sam  Barring- 
ford.    "Queer  how  quickly  things  change  in  nature." 

"That  big  snowfall  about  wound  up  the  winter," 
answered  Henry,  and  he  was  right,  as  it  afterwards 
proved. 

It  was  Joseph  Morris's  plan  to  halt  when  about  a 
mile  from  the  trading  post  and  then  go  forward  with 
Sam  Barringford  and  one  or  two  others  and  recon- 
noiter  the  situation.     As  the  expedition  neared  the 


236  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

post  all  kept  on  the  alert  for  the  possible  appearance 
of  Bevoir  or  any  of  his  crowd. 

"For  all  we  know  Moon  Eye  may  not  be  in  the 
post  at  all,  but  somewhere  on  the  outside,  on  guard," 
said  Dave,  who  accompanied  his  uncle  and  Barring- 
ford  when  reconnoitering. 

Mr.  Morris,  Barringford,  and  Dave  advanced 
with  extreme  caution.  It  was  another  warm  day, 
with  the  sun  shining  brightly  and  the  snow  melting 
rapidly  on  all  sides.  They  kept  among  the  bushes 
and  trees  until  they  came  to  a  point  where  they  could 
see  a  corner  of  the  stockade  plainly. 

"Do  you  see  anybody  around?"  asked  Dave.  He 
was  so  agitated  that  he  could  not  speak.  Oh,  if 
only  he  knew  the  whole  truth  about  his  father ! 

Sam  Barringford  shook  his  head  and  so  did 
Joseph  Morris.  Not  a  soul  could  be  seen,  and 
slowly  the  three  made  their  way  to  a  point  opposite 
the  stockade  gate. 

"The  gate  is  shut,"  announced  Dave.  "I  suppose 
it  is  barred,  too." 

"More  n  likely,"  answered  Sam  Barringford.  He 
was  looking  at  the  loopholes  with  a  critical  eye. 
"They  are  on  guard,"  he  announced,  a  minute  later. 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  questioned  Joseph 
Morris. 

"Saw  a  feller  squinting  through  a  loophole  jest 


CRUSHING   NEWS  237 

now.  Thar's  another!"  went  on  the  old  frontiers- 
man. 

"I  see  an  Indian!"  said  Dave,  and  pointed  along 
the  stockade,  where  a  crack  in  the  posts  had  given 
him  a  glimpse  of  some  feathers.  "They  are  surely 
on  the  watch." 

"Then  they  must  have  learned  of  our  coming!" 
murmured  the  planter,  and  was  much  discouraged. 

A  thorough  survey  of  the  situation  convinced 
them  that  the  party  at  the  post  was  indeed  on  guard. 
The  alarm  had  been  given  by  a  runner  of  Eagle 
Nose's  tribe,  who  had  brought  the  word  for  Moon 
Eye's  benefit,  the  latter  chief  being  related  to  him  by 
marriage.  Jean  Bevoir  had  been  greatly  surprised, 
but  had  at  once  issued  orders  both  to  the  Frenchmen 
and  the  Indians  to  keep  a  close  guard. 

"Ve  shall  fight  zem,"  he  said,  boldly.  "Fight  zem 
to  ze  end!  I  vill  show  zem  zat  za  cannot  stand 
against  Jean  Bevoir !" 

The  Frenchman  had  procured  a  good  stock  of 
rifles  and  ammunition,  and  everybody  in  the  post 
was,  consequently,  well  armed.  More  than  this,  the 
palisade  had  been  strengthened  at  various  points, 
making  the  trading  post  a  veritable  fortress. 

The  runner  had  not  told  Bevoir  or  Moon  Eye  how 
many  men  there  were  with  Joseph  Morris,  but  said 
there  must  be  at  least  a  dozen.     In  the  post  were 


238  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

now  assembled  ten  Frenchmen,  several  of  whom  had 
been  soldiers  in  the  army  during  the  war  for  the 
possession  of  Canada,  and  fourteen  Indians  under 
Moon  Eye.  There  were  also  three  Indian  women 
and  five  Indian  children — all  that  were  left  of  the 
tribe  since  the  downfall  of  Pontiac's  conspiracy. 

What  to  do  next  was  a  problem  hard  for  Joseph 
Morris  to  solve.  The  more  he  surveyed  the  situa- 
tion the  more  he  became  convinced  that  to  attack  the 
post  openly  would  prove  highly  disastrous. 

"They  have  the  best  of  the  situation,"  said  he  to 
Dave  and  the  others.  "They  could  pick  us  off 
through  the  loopholes  at  will.  Perhaps  I  had  better 
parley  with  them." 

"Ye  can't  parley  with  Bevoir,"  answered  Sam 
Barringford,  in  disgust. 

"And  why  not?" 

"Because  ye  can't  believe  a  word  the  Frencher 
says.     Thet  man  would  rather  lie  nor  eat." 

"But  perhaps  I  can  convince  him  that  he  cannot 
hold  the  post,"  went  on  the  planter. 

"Well,  ye  kin  do  as  ye  please,  Mr.  Morris,  but  I 
don't  agree  to  it.  Ye  don't  know  the  varmint  as  I 
do,  an'  as  Mr.  James  Morris  did, — an'  as  Dave  an' 
Henry  do.  We  have  got  to  git  the  best  o'  them, 
either  in  the  open  or  by  trickery.  He  won't  listen 
to  reason  until  he's  licked  good  an'  proper." 


CRUSHING   NEWS  239 

"I  think  Sam  is  right,"  said  Dave,  as  his  uncle 
looked  at  him.  "Jean  Bevoir  is  not  to  be  trusted — 
father  and  I  found  that  out  a  number  of  times,  to  our 
sorrow.  He  may  promise  all  sorts  of  things, — but 
he  won't  keep  his  word  unless  it  suits  him  to 
do  so." 

Nevertheless,  rather  than  risk  a  fight  at  the  be- 
ginning, Joseph  Morris  resolved  to  have  a  talk  with 
the  French  trader,  and  for  that  purpose  sent  a  fron- 
tiersman named  Hope  to  the  post.  Hope  carried  a 
white  handkerchief  tied  to  a  stick,  and  was  allowed 
to  come  to  within  a  few  paces  of  the  stockade  gate, 
when  he  was  halted. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  Jean  Bevoir,"  said  the  frontiers- 
man. 

"Vat  you  vant?"  demanded  the  Frenchman,  from 
within,  and  without  showing  himself. 

"Is  that  you,  Jean  Bevoir?" 

"Yees." 

"Joseph  Morris  is  here  with  a  large  party,  and  he 
demands  that  you  throw  the  gate  of  this  post  open." 

"Ha  !  Vat  for,  tell  me  zat  ?  So  he  can  come  in 
and  murder  us,  not  so?" 

"If  you  will  not  open  the  gate  and  let  him  march 
in  he  will  come  in  by  force." 

"Let  heem  try  it !  Let  heem  try  it !"  cried  Jean 
Bevoir,  in  a  rage.     "Zis  is  my  post — I  vill  defend 


240  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

my  property.  Now  I  vant  you  to  go  avay — an'  stay 
avay !"  he  added,  sharply. 

"Will  you  talk  to  Mr.  Morris?" 

"Vy  I  do  zat?  Haf  I  not  told  you  vat  to  do? 
Go  avay!" 

"He  has  something  of  great  importance  to  say  to 
you.  Perhaps  he  will  make  terms,"  continued  Hope, 
wishing  to  bring  the  two  men  together,  so  that  he 
might  not  have  too  much  responsibility  on  his  own 
shoulders. 

Jean  Bevoir  demurred  and  was  evidently  seconded 
by  some  other  Frenchmen  within  the  post,  but  at  last 
he  consented  to  talk  to  Joseph  Morris,  provided  the 
planter  would  come  to  the  gate  unattended. 
Secretly  the  French  trader  was  anxious  to  know 
just  what  the  English  had  in  mind  to  do. 

Hope  went  back  and  delivered  his  message.  At 
once  Dave,  Henry,  and  Barringford  set  up  another 
protest. 

"There  is  sure  to  be  treachery,  father!"  cried 
Henry.  "Why,  they  may  even  shoot  you  down  in 
cold  blood.  You  do  not  know  the  temper  of  these 
black-hearted  rascals." 

"I  do  not  think  they  will  dare  to  go  as  far  as 
that,"  answered  Joseph  Morris.  He  was  brave- 
hearted  to  the  core.  "If  they  do  kill  me  attack  them 
and  show  no  mercy,"  he  added. 


CRUSHING   NEWS  241 

The  conference  between  Jean  Bevoir  and  the 
planter  took  place  an  hour  later.  Joseph  Morris, 
waving  a  white  handkerchief,  approached  the  front 
of  the  trading  post  boldly.  He  saw  himself  covered 
by  several  rifle  barrels,  but  did  not  falter.  As  he 
came  to  a  halt  there  was  a  slight  noise,  as  a  short 
ladder  was  thrown  into  place,  and  then  the  head  of 
Jean  Bevoir  appeared  over  the  stockade  gate. 

"Hullo!  Jean  Bevoir  has  shown  himself!"  cried 
Dave,  who  was  at  a  distance.  "I  must  say,  I  didn't 
think  he  would  do  it." 

"He  wants  us  to  believe  that  he  is  not  afraid," 
answered  Henry.  "Probably  he  has  been  fortifying 
his  courage  with  a  few  drinks  of  rum."  And  in  this 
guess  Henry  hit  the  nail  on  the  head. 

"Jean  Bevoir,"  began  James  Morris.  "Do  you 
realize  that  you  have  committed  a  great  wrong?" 

"I  haf  done  no  wrong,"  returned  the  Frenchman, 
stubbornly.  "This  post  ees  mine;  I  shall  keep 
heem." 

"You  killed  my  brother." 

"It  ees  not  so, — I  did  not  touch  heem." 

"But  he  is  dead,  is  not  that  true?"  demanded  the 
planter,  with  a  sudden  hope  swaying  in  his  heart. 

"Yees,  he  ees  dead.  But  I  did  it  not,  no.  An 
Indian  shot  heem  down — who,  I  know  not.  He  vas 
badly  wounded,  an'  I,  yes,  I  hees  enemy,  took  care  of 


242  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

heem,  oui,  until  he  died.  Zen  I  gif  heem  a  good 
burial.  Vat  can  I  do  more?  He  not  do  so  much 
for  Jean  Bevoir,  no!  no!" 

"You  caused  his  death — the  attack  on  him  and 
his  companions  was  your  work, — it  is  useless  to  deny 
it.  And  this  post  is  not  yours.  Since  my  brother 
is  dead  it  belongs  to  his  son,  David  Morris, — and 
he  shall  have  it,  be  the  cost  what  it  may.  Jean 
Bevoir,  you  must  surrender,  or  take  the  conse- 
quences." 

At  this  plain  speech  the  Frenchman  grew  slightly 
pale.     But  he  quickly  recovered. 

"Ha  !  Take  care  how  you  threaten  Jean  Bevoir !" 
he  exclaimed.  "Ve  are  veil  armed  here  an'  ve  can 
shoot!  Haf  I  not  told  you  zat  zis  post  ees  mine? 
I  haf  ze  papers,  wid  ze  signature  of  James  Morris, 
oui!  Ze  law  ees  as  good  for  me  as  for  you,  an'  I 
snap  my  fmgair  at  you !"  Jean  Bevoir  suited  the 
action  to  the  word.  "Go  avay,  an'  nevair  come  here 
again!" 

"You  have  my  brother's  signature  ?  Impossible ! 
It  must  be  a  forgery !  He  would  never  deal  in  that 
way  with  such  as  you." 

"Eet  ees  true,  an'  I  warn  you  avay.  Come  back 
again  at  your  peril !"  answered  Jean  Bevoir,  and  then 
disappeared  from  view. 

This  was  a  signal  that  the  conference  was  at  an 


CRUSHING   NEWS  243 

end.  Turning  swiftly,  Joseph  Morris  walked  back 
into  the  forest.  Barringford  and  the  others  ex- 
pected a  shot  or  two,  but  nothing  of  the  kind  came. 

''What  did  he  say?"  asked  Henry,  rushing  up. 

"He  will  give  in  to  nothing,"  answered  the 
planter,  with  a  sigh. 

"And  father — what  of  father?"  questioned  Dave. 
He  could  hardly  utter  the  words. 

James  Morris  stepped  to  his  side  and  caught  Dave 
by  both  arms. 

"It's  too  bad,  my  boy,"  he  said,  tenderly. 

"Then  he  is— is " 

"Yes,  lad — he  was  badly  wounded,  so  Jean  Bevoir 
says,  and  died  some  time  later." 

Dave  staggered  and  sank  down  on  a  fallen  tree. 
Never  had  he  felt  so  miserable  before.  For  days 
and  weeks  he  had  been  hoping  against  hope — and 
now  it  had  all  been  in  vain.  His  father  was  gone, 
and  he  was  left  alone  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

BY    WAY    OF    THE    TUNNEL 

"There  is  one  consolation  :  if  we  cannot  get  into 
the  post  they  cannot  very  well  get  out.  If  the  worst 
comes  to  the  worst  maybe  we  can  starve  them  into 
submission." 

Henry  uttered  the  words  after  a  long  council  of 
war  between  his  father  and  the  other  men  of  the 
expedition.  All  had  withdrawn  to  the  shelter  of  the 
forest,  and  were  keeping  a  close  watch  on  the  trading 
post. 

Dave  took  but  little  interest  in  what  was  said. 
He  was  thinking  of  the  loss  of  his  father.  It  was  a 
terrible  blow,  and  he  did  not  see  how  he  would  ever 
get  over  it. 

"Your  plan  is  all  right,  Henry,  but  it  would  take 
too  long,"  said  Sam  Barringford.  "More'n  likely 
Bevoir  an'  his  crowd  have  a  good  stock  o'  rations  on 
hand  an'  kin  hold  out  all  winter.  They  have  shelter 
while  we  have  none.  I've  got  another  plan,  al- 
though it's  mighty  risky.  Don't  ye  remember  thet 
tunnel  from  the  yard  out  into  this  forest?     If  the 

244 


BY   WAY    OF   THE   TUNNEL  245 

rascals  ain't  discovered  thet  we  might  use  it  in  the 
dark  an'  git  into  the  post  thet  way." 

"Yes!  yes!"  cried  Henry,  brightening.  "The 
tunnel  Tony  Jadwin  and  I  used.  It  came  out  in  a 
hollow  tree  only  a  short  distance  from  here.  I  am 
sure  I  can  find  the  tree  easily  enough." 

"It  is  more  than  likely  they  have  found  the  tun- 
nel," answered  Joseph  Morris.  "And  if  so,  they 
will  watch  it,  or  block  it  up." 

"I'm  a-goin'  to  take  a  look,"  said  the  old  frontiers- 
man. 

While  the  majority  of  the  men  continued  to  watch 
the  trading  post,  to  guard  against  a  possible  attack 
by  those  inside,  the  planter,  Barringford,  Henry,  and 
Dave  walked  to  the  hollow  tree.  How  this  was  used 
before  has  already  been  told  in  another  volume  of 
this  series. 

It  was  an  easy  matter  for  Sam  Barringford  to  let 
himself  down  into  the  hollow  tree.  He  had  to  clear 
away  a  little  snow,  but  found  the  tunnel  practically 
empty.  It  was  only  a  small  affair,  dug  for  bitter 
emergency,  and  ran  directly  from  the  hollow  tree 
under  the  palisade,  and  came  out  near  a  corner  of  the 
storehouse.  It  had  several  turns,  around  rocks  and 
roots  of  trees  long  since  cut  down,  and  it  took  some 
time  for  the  old  frontiersman  to  worm  his  way  along 
until  he  reached  the  vicinity  of  its  termination. 


246  TRAIL  AND   TRADING   POST 

To  light  his  way,  Barringford  had  brought  along 
a  small  torch,  and  now  he  stuck  this  behind  him,  in 
the  wall  of  the  tunnel.  In  front  of  him  was  a  large 
flat  stone,  covering  the  end  of  the  passageway. 

He  placed  his  ear  to  the  stone  and  listened.  Not 
a  sound  broke  the  stillness  beyond,  and  gently  but 
firmly  he  pushed  on  one  end  of  the  stone.  It  was 
frozen  fast,  but  at  last  came  away,  letting  down  a 
small  shower  of  snow. 

"Covered  with  snow,  eh?"  he  murmured  to  him- 
self. "So  much  the  better.  They  ain't  found  it,  an' 
more'n  likely  they  don't  know  a  thing  about  it." 

With  extreme  caution  he  continued  to  push  upon 
the  stone,  until  he  had  raised  up  one  end  a  foot  or 
more.  Beyond,  he  now  discovered  a  drift  of  snow, 
covered  with  an  icy  crust.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to 
clear  away  the  snow,  break  the  crust,  and  step  out 
into  the  open,  less  than  ten  feet  away  from  the  door 
to  the  storehouse  and  stable. 

Not  deeming  it  wise  to  go  further  in  the  daylight, 
Barringford  allowed  the  stone  to  drop  into  place 
once  more,  and  wormed  his  way  back  to  the  hollow 
tree.  The  others  were  anxiously  awaiting  his  re- 
turn. 

"What  did  you  find  ?"  asked  Henry. 

"We  can  git  in  that  way,  if  we  want  to,"  answered 
the  old  frontiersman,  and  related  the  particulars. 


BY   WAY   OF   THE   TUNNEL  247 

Dave  was  for  entering  the  post  at  once,  but  Joseph 
Morris  shook  his  head,  and  Barringford  did  the 
same. 

"We  had  better  wait  until  nightfall,"  said  the 
planter,  "and  in  the  meantime  perhaps  we  can  throw 
Jean  Bevoir  off  his  guard." 

"Let  us  pretend  to  go  away,"  said  Henry.  "Have 
a  talk  with  him,  and  say  you  will  come  back  with  a 
company  of  regulars  from  Fort  Pitt." 

This  was  considered  a  good  suggestion,  and  a  lit- 
tle later  Joseph  Morris  walked  again  into  the  open, 
waving  his  white  handkerchief.  At  first  nobody 
paid  attention  to  him.  Then  Bevoir  showed  himself 
once  more. 

"Jean  Bevoir,  we  have  talked  matters  over,"  began 
the  planter.  "We  want  you  to  consider  well  before 
you  decide.  Will  you  give  up  the  post,  or  do  you 
want  us  to  return  to  Fort  Pitt  and  bring  a  company 
of  soldiers  here  to  fight  you?" 

"I  vill  not  give  up  ze  post,  no !"  shouted  the 
French  trader. 

"Then  you  want  us  to  bring  the  soldiers  from 
Fort  Pitt?" 

"You  cannot  do  zat,"  was  the  reply,  but  a  look  of 
anxiety  crossed  the  bronzed  features  of  the  French 
rascal. 

"I   think   I   can   do   it.     Captain   Ecuyer   is   my 


248  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

friend,  and  was  the  friend  of  my  brother.  He  will 
aid  us  all  he  can." 

"Ze  post  ees  mine,  haf  I  not  said  so  before?  Ze 
capitaine  must  respect  Jean  Bevoir's  rights.  Ven  he 
comes  here  I  show  heem  ze  papairs.  He  must  re- 
spect ze  document,  oui" 

"You  have  no  right  to  this  place,  and  I  know  it," 
answered  Joseph  Morris,  doggedly.  "Then  you  will 
not  give  up?" 

"No,  nevair!" 

"Then,  when  we  bring  the  soldiers,  the  conse- 
quence be  on  your  own  head,"  said  the  trader,  and 
walked  away  to  join  his  friends.  He  was  just  enter- 
ing the  forest  when  a  rifle  shot  rang  out  and  the 
'bullet  whistled  close  to  his  ear. 

"The  skunks!"  roared  Sam  Barringford.  "Didn't 
I  tell  ye  they  wasn't  to  be  trusted?" 

"I  think  I  have  fooled  them,"  said  the  planter. 
The  shot  had  somewhat  disturbed  him,  but  he  did 
not  show  it.  "Now,  let  us  pretend  to  break  camp 
and  march  away." 

This  was  done  with  great  skillfulness,  at  a  point 
where  those  in  the  post  could  see  what  was  going  on. 
Everything  was  packed  on  the  horses  and  they 
moved  off,  up  the  Ohio.  They  continued  to  journey 
onward  until  darkness  and  a  bend  in  the  river  hid 
them  from  the  view  of  their  enemy. 


BY   WAY   OF   THE   TUNNEL  249 

"Now  to  get  back,  and  get  ready  for  the  attack," 
said  Joseph  Morris,  and  he  had  Barringford  lead  the 
way,  by  a  route  deep  in  the  forest,  where  it  would 
be  impossible  for  anybody  at  the  post  to  catch  sight 
of  them. 

The  marching  away  of  the  expedition  was  viewed 
with  interest  by  Jean  Bevoir,  Moon  Eye,  and  their 
followers.  At  first  they  imagined  it  might  be  a  ruse, 
but  then  concluded  that  Joseph  Morris  really  in- 
tended to  go  to  Fort  Pitt  for  assistance. 

"What  he  said  about  Captain  Ecuyer  is  true,"  said 
Benoit  Vascal  to  Jean  Bevoir,  in  their  own  tongue. 
"The  Morrises  were  warm  friends  of  the  fort  com- 
mandant.    He  will  surely  do  all  he  can  for  them." 

"The  soldiers  will  aid  their  own,"  said  Moon  Eye. 
"Did  not  these  whites  get  aid  when  Moon  Eye 
was  fighting  them?  If  they  reach  Fort  Pitt  and 
obtain  assistance  it  may  go  hard  with  all  of  us." 

"It  is  a  long  journey,"  said  Jean  Bevoir. 

"Yes,  but  spring  is  at  hand,"  answered  Moon  Eye. 
"Soon  the  trail  will  be  open,  and  then  the  journey 
will  not  be  difficult.  The  soldiers  will  be  glad  of  a 
march,  after  being  housed  up  so  long." 

"And  what  do  you  advise?"  asked  the  French 
trader. 

"Let  us  follow  them  on  the  sly  and  shoot  them 
down.     They  will  not  dream  of  our  leaving  the  post. 


250  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

We  can  fall  upon  them  when  they  are  asleep  and  kill 
them  to  a  man." 

"Yes !  yes !  let  us  do  that !"  said  a  warrior  who  was 
eager  for  bloodshed.  "Remember  the  saying,  'the 
dead  bear  brings  no  news  to  her  cubs.'  ' 

A  general  council  of  war  was  held,  and  the  upshot 
of  the  matter  was  that  it  was  decided  to  leave  the 
post  under  the  care  of  two  of  the  Frenchmen  and 
two  Indians.  All  of  the  others,  including  Moon 
Eye,  Jean  Bevoir,  and  Benoit  Vascal,  prepared  to 
follow  up  the  Morris  expedition  as  soon  as  it  seemed 
safe  to  do  so. 

Unconscious  of  what  was  in  the  minds  of  their 
enemy,  our  friends  made  a  long  detour  through  the 
mighty  forest  and  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  post 
once  more  shortly  after  midnight.  They  found 
everything  remarkably  quiet  and  not  a  single  light 
of  any  kind  was  showing. 

Barringford  lost  no  time  in  entering  the  tunnel, 
followed  by  Dave  and  Henry.  The  others  came 
after,  each  taking  his  gun  and  hunting  knife  with 
him. 

"Be  cautious,"  warned  Joseph  Morris.  "Do  not 
risk  a  shot  needlessly." 

When  the  old  frontiersman  reached  the  flat  stone 
he  shoved  it  up  as  before.  All  was  still  quiet  and 
dark,  and  scraping  away  some  of  the  snow  he  broke 


BY   WAY   OF   THE   TUNNEL  25  I 

the  icy  covering  and  peered  forth.  He  could  see  the 
storehouse  and  stable  and  above  was  the  clear  sky, 
with  the  stars  twinkling  far  overhead. 

"Nobuddy  in  sight,"  he  whispered,  after  a  careful 
survey  of  the  surroundings. 

He  stepped  out  of  the  tunnel  and  like  a  ghost 
vanished  into  a  dark  angle  of  the  storehouse  build- 
ing. Dave  and  Henry  followed  him,  and  then  came 
Joseph  Morris  and  some  others. 

The  hearts  of  all  beat  rapidly,  for  they  felt  that 
they  were  taking  their  lives  in  their  hands.  A  dis- 
covery might  mean  death  for  many  and  perhaps  all 
of  them. 

"Ha!  I  see  a  man!"  whispered  Barringford,  and 
pointed  out  a  Frenchman,  stationed,  gun  in  hand, 
near  the  stockade  gate. 

"And  there  is  an  Indian,"  put  in  Dave,  pointing 
to  another  portion  of  the  post  defense. 

Try  their  best  they  could  see  no  others  on  guard. 
The  Frenchman  and  the  Indian  walked  up  and  down 
slowly,  stopping  every  few  minutes  to  peer  through 
one  loophole  or  another. 

"The  others  must  be  asleep,"  whispered  Joseph 
Morris.  "If  so  we  may  be  able  to  surprise  them 
completely." 

In  a  few  minutes  all  of  the  party  were  out  of  the 
tunnel.     Several  looked  into  the  stable  and  store 


252  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

house,  to  find  both  empty,  saving  for  stores,  pelts, 
and  horses. 

"Let  us  move  to  the  main  building,"  whispered 
Joseph  Morris.  "At  the  first  sign  of  an  outbreak, 
fire  on  them  and  show  them  no  quarter." 

''They  need  expect  no  quarter  from  me,  Jean  Be- 
voir  especially,"  answered  Dave,  grimly. 

The  entrance  to  the  main  building  was  gained,  and 
still  they  caught  sight  of  nobody  but  the  two  guards 
near  the  stockade.  Softly  the  door  was  pushed 
open  and  Sam  Barringford  entered,  followed  by 
Joseph  Morris  and  Dave  and  Henry. 

A  bright  fire  burnt  in  the  big  open  chimney,  cast- 
ing a  ruddy  glare  around  the  room.  In  front  of  the 
fire,  on  the  floor,  lay  an  Indian,  snoring  lustily. 
On  a  couch  in  a  corner  rested  a  Frenchman,  also 
asleep. 

Without  awaking  the  sleepers,  Dave  and  Henry 
glided  into  the  sleeping  room  of  the  post.  Here  it 
was  dark,  and  they  had  to  go  slow,  for  fear  of 
arousing  somebody.  They  felt  their  way  from 
bunk  to  bunk,  listening  intently  and  putting  forth 
cautious  hands.  Then  they  tiptoed  their  way  back 
to  the  main  room. 

"The  bunks  are  empty !"  whispered  Dave,  and 
Henry  nodded. 

"All  of  them?"  queried  Joseph  Morris. 


BY   WAY  OF   THE   TUNNEL  253 

"Yes." 

"They  must  be  outside — maybe  they  are  going  to 
trap  us  after  all,"  came  softly  from  Sam  Barring- 
ford.     "We  had  better " 

He  stopped  short  and  raised  his  long  rifle.  The 
sleeping  Frenchman  had  roused  up  and  was  staring 
at  the  intruders.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  in  bewilder- 
ment. 

"What  want  you  here?"  he  stammered,  in  French. 

"Silence!"  came  sternly  from  the  old  frontiers- 
man.    "Silence,  ef  ye  don't  want  to  be  kilt!" 

The  Frenchman  understood  little  of  English,  but 
he  understood  enough,  and  he  calmly  submitted  to 
being  bound  with  a  rope  that  was  handy.  In  the 
midst  of  the  work  the  Indian  awoke,  gave  a  swift 
look  around,  and  started  for  the  doorway,  uttering  a 
war-cry  as  he  did  so. 

"Stop!"  cried  Joseph  Morris,  and  fired  his  rifle  at 
the  red  warrior.  His  aim  was  true,  and  the  Indian 
went  down,  wounded  in  the  back.  Then  came  a 
shout  from  outside  in  French,  followed  by  a  war- 
whoop. 

"We  must  fight  for  it  now !"  cried  Henry. 

"I  am  ready!"  answered  Dave.  "Come  on  !  The 
quicker  we  get  at  them  the  better!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

HOLDING    THE    TRADING    POST 

All  ran  out  of  the  main  building,  looking  in 
every  direction  for  the  enemy.  They  expected  to 
be  confronted  by  at  least  a  dozen  Frenchmen  and 
Indians,  and  when  these  did  not  appear  James  Morris 
and  his  followers  were  much  perplexed. 

The  Indian  at  the  stockade  fired  on  them,  and  so 
did  the  Frenchman  at  the  gate.  Our  friends  fired  in 
return,  and  the  Frenchman  went  down  with  two 
bullets  in  his  breast.  The  Indian  was  slightly 
wounded,  and  as  he  saw  the  others  pouring  from  the 
main  building,  he  turned  back  to  the  stockade,  ran 
to  one  of  the  corners,  climbed  up  and  over,  and  dis- 
appeared from  view. 

"He  is  running  away!"  cried  Dave.  "Something 
is  wrong  here!     Where  can  Jean  Bevoir  be?" 

Nobody  attempted  to  answer  that  question,  just 
then.  The  party  scattered  throughout  the  grounds 
and  the  buildings,  looking  in  all  directions  for  the 
enemy.  But  nobody  was  found  outside  of  those 
already  seen. 

254 


HOLDING  THE   TRADING   POST  255 

"They  have  disappeared,"  said  Joseph  Morris. 
"Can  it  be  possible  that  they  have  gone  out  to  follow 
us  up?" 

"That's  it!"  shouted  Henry.  "They  didn't  want 
us  to  go  to  Fort  Pitt  for  aid." 

"Henry  must  have  hit  the  truth,"  said  Sam  Bar- 
ringford.  "It's  a  lucky  thing  fer  us.  We  have 
gained  the  post  with  no  loss  at  all." 

"But  it  remains  to  be  seen  if  we  can  hold  it,"  an- 
swered Joseph  Morris,  quickly. 

"Don't  forget  that  Indian  who  got  away,"  added 
Dave.  "He  will  carry  the  news  to  the  others  as 
soon  as  he  can,  and  they  will  be  about  our  ears  in  no 
time." 

"We  must  prepare  to  defend  this  place,"  said  his 
uncle.  "I  will  call  the  men  together,  and  we  can 
go  over  our  plans.  Dave,  you  know  more  of  this 
post  than  I  do.  How  had  we  best  distribute  the 
men?" 

Dave  told  of  what  had  been  done  in  the  past,  and 
soon  the  men  were  put  on  guard,  two  at  the  gate, 
one  at  each  corner  of  the  stockade,  and  the  others 
at  a  point  in  the  center  of  the  grounds,  from  which 
they  could  run  to  any  spot  where  they  were  needed. 
Each  man  was  armed  with  two  rifles,  and  some  of 
them  had  a  pistol  besides, — old  Spanish  weapons 
and  extra  long. 


256  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

"We  must  not  forget  that  our  horses  are  still  in 
the  forest  and  likewise  that  sick  man,"  said  Joseph 
Morris.     "If  possible,  we  ought  to  bring  them  in." 

"If  you  say  so,  I'll  go  after  them,"  answered  his 
son.     "I  am  not  afraid  to  do  it." 

At  first  the  planter  demurred,  but  finally  consented 
to  let  Henry  go,  accompanied  by  Sam  Barringford. 
They  did  not  wish  their  pack-train  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye,  for  that  would  give 
the  enemy  a  great  advantage.  Besides,  they  felt  it 
their  duty  to  care  for  the  stranger  who  had  sought 
their  aid. 

"You  must  return  with  all  possible  speed,"  said 
Joseph  Morris,  when  Henry  and  Barringford  were 
departing.  "If  you  hurry  you  will  likely  get  back 
before  Jean  Bevoir  starts  to  return  to  this  post." 

The  two  departed  by  climbing  the  stockade  at  one 
of  the  corners,  and  lost  not  a  moment  in  getting  into 
the  shelter  of  the  timber.  Here  they  looked  around 
carefully,  but  could  not  find  a  single  trace  of  their 
enemy  or  of  the  Indian  who  had  vanished. 

The  Indian  who  had  been  wounded  in  the  short 
fight  at  the  post  refused  to  speak  when  questioned. 
Dave  recognized  him  as  one  of  Moon  Eye's  followers 
whom  he  had  met  before.  When  the  red  warrior 
saw  the  youth  he  merely  scowled  and  turned  his  face 
away.     A  little  later  he  lapsed  into  unconsciousness. 


HOLDING   THE   TRADING   POST  257 

and  nobody  paid  further  attention  to  him,  thinking 
he  was  about  to  breathe  his  last. 

The  Frenchman  who  had  been  captured  was  a  man 
Henry  and  Barringford  had  met  several  times.  He 
was  a  lawless  and  brutal  fellow,  given  to  heavy 
drinking,  and  he  took  his  capture  with  an  air  of 
bravo  and  told  them  to  do  their  worst  if  they  chose. 

"What  has  become  of  Jean  Bevoir?"  asked  Mr. 
Morris  of  the  man. 

"Jean,  he  ees  ze  big  fool,"  was  the  answer.  "He 
go  to  catch  you — you  come  here  an'  tak  post.  By 
gar !  dat  ees  big  fool  t'ing !" 

"Tell  me  about  my  father,"  said  Dave.  "How 
was  he  wounded  and  how  did  he  die?" 

"Vat  I  know  'bout  dat?  I  no  keel  heem!  I  no 
see  heem  't  all.  Jean,  he  fix  dat,  I  tell  you!"  And 
the  Frenchman  winked  suggestively. 

"I  suppose  you  mean  that  Bevoir  killed  my 
father,"  went  on  Dave,  bitterly. 

"I  no  say  dat,  no.  You  ask  Jean — he  tell  truth — 
I  haf  noddings  to  do  wid  dat,  no!"  And  then  the 
Frenchman  would  say  no  more  on  the  subject,  nor 
would  he  say  what  had  become  of  the  others  who 
had  accompanied  James  Morris.  Evidently  he  did 
not  wish  to  render  himself  liable  in  any  manner  if  it 
could  be  avoided. 

Slowly  the  night  wore  away  and  morning  dawned, 


258  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

bright  and  clear.  To  the  chagrin  of  those  at  the 
post  neither  Henry  nor  Barringford  showed  himself, 
nor  did  they  see  anything  of  the  sick  man  or  the 
horses. 

"I  hope  they  have  not  gotten  into  trouble,"  said 
Joseph  Morris.  "Yet,  if  all  went  well,  they  should 
have  been  here  long  before  this." 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
they  heard  several  shots  at  a  distance.  They 
watched  eagerly,  and  presently  saw  Sam  Barring- 
ford,  on  horseback,  riding  with  might  and  main  for 
the  post. 

"Sam  is  coming !"  cried  Dave,  running  to  the 
gate.     "Put  down  the  bars  and  let  him  in  !" 

The  bars  were  loosened  and  the  big  gate  opened, 
and  a  minute  later  the  old  frontiersman  swept 
through  the  opening.  He  was  so  exhausted  he 
almost  dropped  from  his  steed. 

'Ts  Henry  here?"  were  his  first  words. 

"No,"  answered  several. 

At  this  announcement  the  face  of  the  frontiersman 
fell.     He  glanced  back  toward  the  forest. 

"It's  too  bad,  but  we  can't  do  nuthing  now.  Bar 
the  gate  ag'in,  afore  they  git  in  on  ye !" 

His  directions  were  followed,  and  soon  after  this 
the  party  under  Jean  Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye  swept 
into  view.     They  were  in  a  great  rage,  and  doubly 


The  old  frontiersman  swept  through  the  opening-.  —  Page  258. 


HOLDING   THE   TRADING   POST  259 

so  when  they  saw  how  they  had  been  tricked  out  of 
the  possession  of  the  trading  post. 

"Surrendair!"  cried  Jean  Bevoir,  as  he  came 
closer.  "Zat  ees  my  property,  an'  I  call  upon  you  to 
surrendair !" 

"Keep  your  distance,  or  we  will  fire  upon  you!" 
answered  Joseph  Morris,  and  to  check  the  advance  he 
had  one  of  his  men  fire  over  the  enemy's  head.  At 
this  the  advancing  party  lost  no  time  in  secreting 
itself  behind  the  neighboring  trees. 

"Keep  a  strict  watch  and  sound  the  alarm  at  the 
first  outbreak,"  said  the  planter,  and  then  walked  to 
where  Dave  was  assisting  Sam  Barringford  from 
his  steed. 

The  frontiersman's  story  was  soon  told.  He  and 
Henry  had  gone  straight  to  where  the  pack-train  and 
the  sick  man  had  been  left,  to  find  the  man  gone  and 
also  one  of  the  horses.  They  were  looking  around 
for  the  individual  and  the  steed  when  five  Indians 
pounced  upon  them  and  made  them  prisoners.  The 
Indians  took  them  into  the  forest  and  also  led  the 
horses  away.  From  their  talk  they  were  evidently  a 
portion  of  Moon  Eye's  tribe  that  was  journeying  to 
the  post  to  join  their  chief.  What  had  become  of  the 
sick  man  none  of  them  appeared  to  know. 

"We  watched  our  chances,"  continued  Sam  Bar- 
ringford, "and  jest  when  we  thought  as  how  we 


200  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

could  do  it,  Henry  an'  I  made  a  break  fer  liberty. 
We  got  on  two  o'  the  bosses  an'  rode  as  if  the  Old 
Nick  war  after  us.  The  Injuns  fired  at  us,  but  their 
aim  was  no  good  so  far  ez  I  was  consarned.  In  the 
woods  Henry  an'  I  got  separated.  I  thought  he 
rode  straight  fer  here,  but  I  must  have  been  mistook 
on  that  p'int.  I  was  coming  along  full  bent  when  I 
spotted  Jean  Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye  and  thet  crowd. 
Then  I  knowed  I  must  ride  fer  all  I  was  wuth,  an' 
I  did  it." 

"Then  Henry  must  be  somewhere  in  the  forest," 
said  Dave. 

"Yes,  but  if  he's  alive  or  dead  I  don't  know," 
answered  Sam  Barringford,  soberly. 

"I  must  find  out  about  this,"  said  Joseph  Morris. 
"And  I  must  do  it  at  once." 

"You  cannot  go  out  now,  Uncle  Joe,"  said  Dave, 
hastily.     "They  would  shoot  you  on  the  spot !" 

"No,  ye  can't  go  now,"  added  Barringford. 

A  short  time  passed,  and  then  came  a  hail  from 
without.  Looking  they  saw  Jean  Bevoir  waving  a 
bit  of  dirty  white  cloth. 

"He  wants  another  pow-wow,"  said  a  frontiers- 
man at  the  gate. 

"If  I  were  you  I'd  not  show  myself,"  said  Dave, 
to  his  uncle,  but  Joseph  Morris  mounted  the  short 
ladder  nevertheless. 


HOLDING   THE   TRADING   POST  261 

''What  do  you  want  now?"  demanded  the 
planter. 

"I  vish  to  make  terms,"  began  Jean  Bevoir,  and 
then  went  over  his  old  story  of  his  rights  regarding 
the  post. 

"Jean  Bevoir,  I  do  not  wish  to  listen  to  you," 
answered  the  planter.  "This  post  belongs  to  David 
Morris,  and  that  is  the  end  of  it.  The  best  you  can 
do  is  to  take  yourself  off  and  be  quick  about  it.  All 
of  this  land  now  belongs  to  the  English,  and  you 
Frenchmen  have  no  rights  here  at  all.  If  you  want 
to  establish  a  post  you  must  do  it  in  French  territory. 
The  war  with  your  country  and  with  the  Indians  is 
at  an  end,  and  you  must  act  according  to  the  treaty 
of  peace.  You  are  accountable  for  the  death  of  my 
brother,  and  that  is  bad  enough,  without  making 
matters  worse.  Go  away,  and  never  let  me  see  your 
face  again." 

"I  vill  go — but  I  shall  come  back !"  shouted  Jean 
Bevoir,  in  a  rage,  and  shaking  his  fist  at  Joseph 
Morris  he  retreated  once  more  behind  the  trees. 

"Did  he  say  anything  about  Henry?"  asked 
Dave. 

"No.  I  will  ask  him,"  answered  his  uncle,  and 
started  to  call  to  Jean  Bevoir,  when  Barringford 
stopped  him. 

"Don't   ye    do   it/'    said   the   old    frontiersman. 


262  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

''Maybe  they  don't  know  Henry  is  still  out,  an'  if  so, 
it  won't  be  wise  to  let  'em  know." 

"That  is  true,"  answered  the  planter,  thought- 
fully. "I  will  say  nothing.  But  pray  Heaven 
that  my  boy  is  safe !" 

After  that  the  best  part  of  the  day  passed  slowly. 
The  only  excitement  occurred  when  the  French 
prisoner  broke  his  bonds  and  tried  to  escape.  He 
was  overtaken  by  one  of  the  frontiersmen  and  a 
desperate  hand-to-hand  fight  ensued,  in  which  the 
frontiersman  was  stabbed  in  the  shoulder.  But  then 
the  Frenchman  received  a  pistol  bullet  in  his  ab- 
domen and  fell  flat.  He  was  picked  up  and  taken 
to  the  main  building  of  the  post,  where  he  received 
such  medical  attention  as  the  limited  means  of  the 
garrison  afforded.  This  did  small  good,  however, 
and  he  died  at  sunrise  on  the  following  day.  Before 
he  died  he  tried  to  tell  Dave  something  about  James 
Morris,  but  couldn't  speak  clearly. 

"What  do  you  want  to  say?"  asked  Dave.  "Tell 
me  if  you  can." 

"Your    f adder,    he    ees — he    ees "    said    the 

wounded  man,  and  that  was  as  far  as  he  could  get. 
He  gasped  for  breath,  tried  to  sit  up, — and  a  minute 
later  all  was  over. 

"He  must  have  known  something,"  said  Dave,  to 
his  uncle.     "What  was  it?" 


HOLDING   THE   TRADING   POST  263 

,  The  planter  shook  his  head.  "Do  not  ask  me, 
Dave,"  he  said,  gently.  "It  is  too  bad!  First  your 
father,  and  now  it  may  be  Henry!"  And  he  turned 
away  to  hide  the  tears  that  sprang  into  his  eyes. 

Dave  could  not  content  himself,  and  wandered 
idly  from  one  part  of  the  trading  post  to  another. 
His  father  was  continually  in  his  mind.  He  missed 
his  parent  as  he  had  never  done  before. 

Suddenly  as  he  walked  along  one  of  the  men  came 
running  towards  him. 

"I  say,  Dave,  have  you  seen  that  redskin  that  was 
wounded  in  the  fight?"  he  called  out.  "The  one 
your  uncle  shot?" 

"No,  I  haven't  seen  him." 

"He  is  gone — we  can't  find  him  anywhere.  We 
all  thought  he  was  dying,  but  it  looks  now  as  if  he 
had  gotten  away,"  went  on  the  man. 

He  turned  into  the  stable  and  then  into  a  small 
compartment  of  the  storehouse,  where  the  powder 
for  the  post  was  usually  kept.  A  moment  later  he 
came  rushing  into  the  open  yelling  wildly. 

"The  Injun's  in  there !"  he  gasped.  "He  has  got 
a  torch  and  is  going  to  set  off  all  the  powder  and 
blow  us  sky-high!" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

IN    WHICH    A    BATTERING    RAM    IS    USED 

The  announcement  that  the  frontiersman  made 
rilled  Dave  and  the  others  who  heard  it  with  horror. 
For  the  moment  the  youth  could  not  believe  the  evi- 
dence of  his  senses. 

"Going  to  blow  us  up?"  he  queried. 

"Yes — look  for  yourself,  if  you  don't  believe  it!" 
And  the  man  ran  further  away  than  ever. 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Joseph  Morris,  who 
had  just  come  up. 

"He  says  the  Indian  you  wounded  is  in  the  store- 
house and  is  going  to  set  fire  to  the  casks  of  powder 
stored  there." 

"In  there  ?"  returned  the  planter. 

"Let  us  stop  him — if  we  can,"  went  on  Dave,  and 
rushed  forward,  without  considering  the  great  risk 
he  was  assuming  by  such  action. 

He  ran  into  the  storehouse,  and  his  uncle  came  at 
his  heels.  Sure  enough,  the  wounded  Indian  was 
there,  firebrand  in  hand.  He  was  waving  it  over  a 
powder  keg  that  was  broken  open  and  muttering  a 

264 


IN   WHICH   A   BATTERING   RAM   IS    USED       265 

weird  chant.  He  knew  that  he  was  mortally 
wounded,  and  if  he  had  to  die  he  wanted  his  hated 
enemies  to  die  with  him. 

Dave  and  his  uncle  gazed  on  the  scene  as  if  bound 
by  a  spell.  A  single  spark  from  that  torch  dropped 
into  the  powder  would  mean  death  and  destruction 
to  nearly  everybody  and  everything  in  the  post.  The 
Indian  was  calm  and  continued  to  chant. 

Presently,  with  a  start,  Dave  broke  the  spell  that 
bound  him.  He  made  one  swift  leap,  caught  the 
torch  from  behind  and  sent  it  whizzing  away 
through  the  open  doorway.  Some  sparks  dropped 
to  the  floor  and  as  they  fell  his  foot  covered 
them. 

The  Indian,  taken  completely  off  his  guard,  turned 
in  consternation.  The  youth  sprang  upon  him  and 
bore  him  to  the  floor.  Then  Joseph  Morris  leaped 
in,  and  together  they  dragged  the  miscreant  out  of 
the  building. 

A  crowd  of  half  a  dozen  had  collected.  They  saw 
the  torch  and  saw  the  red  man  pushed  and  dragged 
into  the  open.  They  waited  for  an  explosion,  but 
it  did  not  come.  Then  all  began  to  breathe 
easier. 

"Dave,  you  saved  us  all !"  It  was  Joseph  Morris 
who  spoke.  The  great  beads  of  perspiration  were 
standing  out  on  his  forehead. 


266  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

"I — I  am  glad  if  I  did,"  answered  the  youth. 
Now  the  danger  was  past,  he  found  himself  trem- 
bling like  a  leaf. 

"Kill  that  Injun!"  was  the  cry.  "Kill  him!  He 
ain't  fit  to   live!" 

Swiftly  the  crowd  turned  on  the  red  man.  The 
Indian  had  sunk  on  the  ground  in  a  heap.  His 
wound  had  broken  afresh  and  he  was  gasping 
heavily.  Barringford  ran  to  him,  hunting  knife  in 
hand.  Then  the  old  frontiersman  shook  his  head 
and  motioned  the  others  back. 

"He's  dying,  men,"  he  said.     "Let  him  alone." 

"Are  ye  sure  o'  thet,  Sam?"  asked  one 
man. 

"Dead  sartin."  And  Barringford's  words  proved 
true,  for  the  Indian  expired  soon  after. 

The  alarm  had  put  everybody  in  the  post  on  his 
mettle,  and  a  strict  hunt  was  made,  to  see  if  anybody 
else  was  in  hiding  around  the  place.  Nobody 
was  found,  and  gradually  the  garrison  settled 
down. 

"It  is  maddening  to  think  that  Henry  is  missing," 
said  Joseph  Morris,  shortly  after  the  noon  hour. 
"I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  know  what  has  become 
of  him." 

"And  I'd  like  to  know  what  Jean  Bevoir  intends 
to  do  next,"  returned  his  nephew. 


IN   WHICH   A   BATTERING   RAM   IS   USED       267 

"He  and  his  followers  may  wait  until  to-night  and 
then  attack  us." 

Slowly  the  rest  of  the  day  wore  away,  and 
during  that  time  all  in  the  post  made  themselves  as 
comfortable  as  possible.  An  examination  of  the 
stores  showed  that  the  Frenchmen  and  Indians  had 
provided  themselves  with  plenty  of  food,  so  the 
present  garrison  would  not  suffer  in  that  respect. 

"So  far  as  rations  are  concerned,  we  can  hold  this 
place  for  a  month,"  said  Joseph  Morris.  "And  as 
the  river  is  so  near,  they  cannot  very  well  close  off 
our  water  supply." 

"Jean  Bevoir  won't  wait  to  starve  us  out,"  said 
Barringford.  "He'll  attack  us,  or  do  somethin'  else, 
mark  my  words." 

An  early  supper  was  had,  and  then  the  men  on 
guard  began  a  closer  vigilance  than  ever.  Every 
tree  and  bush  and  every  rock  without  was  closely 
watched.  The  tunnel  had  been  shut  up  in  such  a 
way  that  it  could  not  be  used  for  the  time  being. 

So  far  there  had  been  little  wind,  but  now  a  strong 
breeze  came  up.  Hardly  had  it  started  than  a 
shower  of  fire  arrows  came  sailing  over  the  stockade, 
to  land  in  many  directions. 

"They  are  going  to  try  to  set  fire  to  the  build- 
ings !"  cried  Dave. 

"Put  out  the  arrows !"  cried  Joseph  Morris,  and 


268  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

ran  for  some  wet  bags.  With  the  bags  the  majority 
of  the  fire  arrows  were  quickly  extinguished.  Two 
lodged  on  the  roof  of  the  main  building,  and  Dave 
climbed  up  to  put  them  out. 

"Be  careful, — don't  expose  yourself!"  exclaimed 
his  uncle. 

The  instant  Dave  made  a  whack  with  his  wet  bag 
at  the  fire  arrow  several  other  arrows  flew  in  the 
direction,  one  striking  his  hunting  shirt.  The  flame 
on  it  burnt  fiercely  and  set  fire  to  the  youth's  gar- 
ments. 

''Look  out,  you're  burning!"  cried  one  man. 

"Roll  down  in  the  snow!"  came  from  Sam  Bar- 
ringford. 

This  was  good  advice,  and  Dave  lost  no  time  in 
following  it.  Down  he  came  in  a  pile  of  snow  and 
rolled  over  and  over,  and  the  small  blaze  was  im- 
mediately extinguished. 

One  of  the  arrows  shot  last  had  got  a  good  hold 
between  the  logs  of  the  roof  and  was  burning  at  a 
lively  rate. 

"We  ought  to  have  some  water,"  said  Joseph 
Morris. 

"Snow  will  do,"  answered  the  old  frontiersman, 
and  taking  up  a  good-sized  chunk,  he  hurled  it  at 
the  arrow.  His  aim  was  good  and  the  fire  was 
blotted  out.     Then  others  took  up  handfuls  of  snow, 


IN   WHICH   A   BATTERING   RAM    IS    USED       269 

and  as  soon  as  the  burning  arrows  appeared,  covered 
them  completely;  so  that  that  new  danger  was 
quickly  past. 

The  Indians  under  Moon  Eye  had  hoped  much 
from  their  burning  arrows  and  were  deeply 
chagrined  to  see  them  put  out  so  easily.  They  sent 
out  half  a  hundred  or  less  and  then  ceased  opera- 
tions. 

"The  snow  has  aided  them,"  grunted  the  chief 
in  disgust.     "We  must  try  some  other  plan." 

"Why  not  get  a  battering  ram  and  ram  down  the 
gate?"  asked  Benoit  Vascal  of  Jean  Bevoir,  in 
French. 

The  Frenchman  suggested  this  to  Moon  Eye. 
The  Indian  leader  was  willing,  provided  the  French- 
men would  use  the  ram,  leaving  the  Indians  to  enter 
the  post  after  the  gate  was  down. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  evening,  another  band 
of  red  men  and  several  Frenchmen  had  come  up, 
friendly  to  Moon  Eye  and  to  Bevoir.  They  joined 
forces  with  those  besieging  the  post,  making  those 
without  much  stronger  than  before.  Jean  Bevoir 
promised  the  Indians  and  his  countrymen  all  sorts  of 
things  if  they  would  aid  in  capturing  the  post  and 
in  killing  all  the  whites  found  defending  it. 

The  plan  to  batter  down  the  gate  was  carefully 
made.     A  fair-sized  tree  was  cut  down  and  trimmed 


270  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

off,  leaving  just  enough  of  the  branches  to  make 
good  handles.  This  battering  ram  was  brought  up 
in  the  forest  in  a  direct  line  with  the  stockade  gate. 
At  the  front  was  placed  a  shield  of  loose  branches 
and  bark. 

It  the  meantime,  it  was  decided  that  six  Indians 
should  go  to  the  rear  of  the  post  and  make  a  demon- 
stration there,  shouting  loudly  and  firing  their  guns 
and  arrows, — doing  this  to  draw  the  attention  of  the 
post  defenders  to  that  point.  When  the  alarm  was 
at  its  height,  the  battering  ram  was  to  be  used  with 
all  force  and  as  swiftly  as  possible.  The  moment 
the  gate  was  down,  Indians  and  Frenchmen  were  to 
rush  into  the  post  grounds  and  slaughter  all  who 
opposed  them. 

Having  eaten  his  supper  after  the  others,  Sam 
Barringford  walked  around  the  entire  stockade, 
questioning  all  who  were  on  guard.  Nobody  had 
seen  either  a  Frenchman  or  an  Indian,  although  con- 
stantly on  the  alert. 

"Tell  ye  wot  I  heard  though,"  said  one  frontiers- 
man to  Barringford.  "I  heard  'em  choppin'  down  a 
tree  over  yonder." 

"Sure  it  war  a  tree,  Collins?"  asked  the  old  fron- 
tiersman, with  interest. 

"I  am." 

"Humph!" 


IN   WHICH   A   BATTERING   RAM   IS    USED       27 1 

Sam  Barringford  said  no  more,  but  went  straight 
to  Joseph  Morris. 

"We  want  to  watch  thet  gate  harder  nor  ever," 
he  announced. 

"Why,  Sam?" 

"They  have  been  cuttin'  down  a  tree." 

"Ha !  Do  you  think  they  wish  to  use  it  for  a 
battering  ram?" 

"Don't  know  wot  else  they'd  want  it  fer.  Any- 
way, it  won't  hurt  to  watch  the  gate  extry  well." 

"I'll  have  it  done,"  answered  the  planter,  and  was 
as  good  as  his  word. 

Another  hour  went  by  and  still  the  silence  around 
the  trading  post  continued.  A  few  of  the  men  were 
sleepy,  but  they  were  ordered  to  keep  awake. 

"Our  sleeping  will  be  done  in  the  daytime  after 
this — until  the  alarm  is  at  an  end,"  said  Joseph 
Morris. 

Suddenly  there  burst  upon  the  night  air  a  chorus 
of  wild  yells,  coming  from  a  point  at  the  rear  of 
the  stockade.  The  six  Indians  sent  to  that  place 
appeared,  but  took  care  to  keep  out  of  range  of  the 
frontiersmen's  rifles. 

"They  are  coming — over  the  back  stockade !"  was 
the  cry. 

"Don't  run  that  way  yet!"  roared  Sam  Barring- 
ford.     "Watch  the  gate !     Watch  the  gate !" 


272  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    l'OST 

Some  of  the  men  paused  in  bewilderment.  Look- 
ing to  the  front,  they  could  see  nobody.  From  the 
rear  a  shot  rang  out,  followed  by  several  others,  and 
then  came  a  shower  of  arrows. 

"Pretend  to  go  back — and  then  turn  and  watch  the 
gate,"  ordered  Joseph  Morris. 

The  men  obeyed.  But  Dave  remained  at  the  gate, 
his  eye  glued  to  a  near  loophole.  Only  the  stars 
were  shining,  so  he  had  to  watch  closely  in  order  to 
see  anything  at  all. 

The  demonstration  at  the  rear  of  the  post  went  on, 
and  now  the  Indians  became  a  little  bolder,  running 
to  within  fifty  yards  of  the  palisade.  As  a  conse- 
quence one  received  a  bullet  wound  in  his  arm,  and 
then  all  slipped  behind  the  trees. 

"Here  they  come !"  yelled  Dave,  suddenly.  "Here 
they  come !  Sam,  quick !  They  have  a  battering 
ram !" 

"Jest  as  I  supposed !"  returned  the  old  frontiers- 
man.    "Give  it  to  'em,  Dave!" 

Crack !  went  the  rifle  of  the  youth  and  one  of  the 
Frenchmen  carrying  the  ram  staggered  for  a  mo- 
ment, grazed  in  the  side.  Then  the  crowd  came  for- 
ward, swiftly  and  silently.  Barringford  took  aim 
and  fired,  and  another  Frenchman  dropped  back, 
seriously  wounded.     But  the  others  did  not  pause. 

Crash !     The  battering  ram  struck  the  grate  with 


IN   WHICH   A   BATTERING   RAM    IS   USED       273 

great  force,  causing  it  to  quiver  from  top  to  bottom. 
But  the  posts  and  the  oaken  bars  held,  and  those  out- 
side had  to  run  back  with  the  tree-trunk. 

"Fire  on  'em!  Fire  on  'em!"  yelled  Barringford, 
and  he  and  Dave  let  drive  a  second  time,  and  two 
other  defenders  followed  suit.  The  men  with  the 
battering  ram  came  up,  but  just  as  they  were  within 
three  yards  of  the  gate  one  of  the  leaders  staggered 
and  fell,  shot  through  the  knee.  This  confused  the 
others,  and  the  second  blow  on  the  gate  was,  conse- 
quently, a  feeble  one. 

"Again!  Again!"  shrieked  Jean  Bevoir.  "Up 
with  the  log!"  he  added,  in  French.  "Remember 
the  reward,  if  you  get  into  the  post!  Now  then, 
all  together !" 

Once  more  those  outside  raised  the  battering  ram 
and  ran  back  with  it.  They  paused  for  a  moment, 
to  gather  their  strength.  Then  they  hurled  them- 
selves forward,  and  the  ram  hit  the  gate  with  a  crash 
that  was  deafening,  causing  the  splinters  to  fly  in 
all  directions. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

FROM     ENEMIES     TO    FRIENDS 

It  is  now  necessary  to  go  back  a  little,  to  learn 
how  poor  Henry  fared,  after  he  and  Sam  Barring- 
ford  escaped  from  the  Indians  who  had  made  them 
prisoners. 

Henry  was  on  a  good  horse,  but  in  leaping  over 
some  rocks  the  steed  went  down  into  a  hollow,  strik- 
ing its  head  heavily.  The  youth  was  thrown  off, 
and  he  and  his  steed  were  both  stunned. 

When  Henry  recovered  he  was  again  in  the 
clutches  of  the  red  men.  Three  of  them  surrounded 
him  and  threatened  to  take  his  life  on  the  spot  if  he 
did  not  submit,  and  they  soon  after  bound  his  hands 
behind  him  with  rawhides.  The  horse  was  found 
to  be  still  fit  for  use,  and  Henry  was  bound  on  the 
animal's  back.  Then  the  party  of  Indians  journeyed 
off  to  parts  unknown. 

Henry  had  suffered  before,  but  now  his  red  cap- 
tors treated  him  worse  than  ever.  They  were  a  low 
grade  of  warriors,  in  reality  outcasts,  and  hardly 
knew  what  to  do  with  their  white  prisoner.     They 

274 


FROM    ENEMIES   TO   FRIENDS  275 

moved  on  for  several  miles,  and  then  went  into  camp 
near  the  bank  of  the  Ohio.  Here  they  took  Henry 
from  the  horse  and  fastened  him  to  a  tree.  They 
had  some  food  for  themselves,  but  did  not  offer  their 
captive  a  mouthful.  They  did,  however,  give  him  a 
drink,  for  which  he  was  thankful. 

Henry  wondered  if  Barringford  had  escaped  or 
been  shot  down.  He  saw  no  new  scalp  among  the 
red  men,  which  gave  him  a  slight  hope. 

"If  he  got  away  maybe  he  will  bring  somebody  to 
rescue  me,"  thought  the  youth,  but  hour  after  hour 
went  by,  and  nobody  came  near  the  camp. 

Fortunately  for  Henry,  the  weather  was  exceed- 
ingly mild,  so  that  he  suffered  little  from  the  cold. 
He  tried  several  times  to  question  the  Indians,  but 
they  understood  little  English  and  were  not  inclined 
to  answer  the  questions  he  put.  One  slapped  him  in 
the  face  and  another  put  a  handful  of  soft  snow 
down  his  back.  Then  they  went  away,  to  talk  among 
themselves,  leaving  him  alone. 

He  tried  with  might  and  main  to  either  slip  or 
break  the  bonds  which  bound  him,  but  with  no  suc- 
cess. He  looked  around  for  some  other  means  of 
getting  away,  but  nothing  presented  itself. 

Soon  after  consulting  among  themselves,  some  of 
the  Indians  went  away,  leaving  only  one  red  man  on 
guard.     This  fellow,  a  warrior  with  a  visage  hor- 


276  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

ribly  pitted  from  smallpox,  and  a  squint  in  one  eye, 
wrapped  himself  in  his  blanket  and  sat  down  on  a 
log,  his  bow  and  arrows  across  his  knees. 

A  half-hour  slipped  by  and  the  Indian  dropped 
into  a  doze.  Henry  watched  him  with  interest, 
and  a  little  later  saw  that  the  warrior  was  fast 
asleep. 

"Now,  if  only  I  could  break  these  bonds  and  get 
away!"  sighed  the  youth  to  himself. 

Once  again  he  went  at  the  rawhide,  but  all  he 
could  do  was  to  cut  his  wrists.  At  last  he  gave  up 
in  despair. 

The  other  Indians  came  back  soon  after  this, 
bringing  some  additional  warriors  with  them.  One 
could  speak  English,  and  he  questioned  Henry 
closely  about  himself  and  about  those  at  the  trading 
post. 

"Let  me  go  and  I  will  reward  you  well,"  said 
Henry,  after  he  saw  that  the  red  men  had  no  inten- 
tion of  giving  him  his  liberty. 

Instead  of  agreeing  to  this,  the  Indian  asked  the 
youth  about  Jean  Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye.  Then 
Henry  was  left  once  again  to  himself,  while  two 
Indians  went  off  on  a  run, — to  interview  the  French 
trader,  as  it  afterwards  proved. 

The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that  Henry  was 
taken  to  the  camp  Jean  Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye  had 


FROM    ENEMIES   TO   FRIENDS  277 

made  in  the  forest.  Bevoir  hailed  the  coming  of  the 
young  prisoner  with  keen  delight. 

"Ha !  so  ve  haf  at  least  von  of  dem !"  said  he, 
rubbing  his  hands  together.  "How  you  like  to  be 
prisonair,  hey?" 

"Not  at  all,"  answered  Henry,  bluntly.  "Now 
you  have  me,  what  do  you  intend  to  do,  Jean  Be- 
voir?" 

"You  shall  soon  see,  oui!"  I  haf  not  forgot  ze 
past,  no!  no!  I  tak  care  of  you,  by  gar!"  And 
Jean  Bevoir  shook  his  fist  in  poor  Henry's  face. 

"You  will  gain  nothing  by  mistreating  me,"  went 
on  the  youth,  as  steadily  as  he  could.  "Sooner  or 
later  the  law  will  get  hold  of  you.  The  best  thing 
you  can  do  is  to  let  me  go." 

"I  not  let  you  go.  Ve  shall  fight  zem  at  ze  post. 
Ve  vin  sure — but  if  ve  lose,  hey?  I  haf  you,  hey? 
Vat  can  za  do  to  Jean  Bevoir  if  you  be  a  prisonair, 
hey?  If  za  keel  me  den  my  men  keel  you!  Now 
you  understand,  oui?" 

Henry  did  understand,  and  it  made  his  heart  sink 
lower  than  ever.  By  holding  him  a  prisoner  the 
Frenchman  expected  to  keep  himself  from  harm. 
If  he  was  captured  he  would  warn  his  captors  not  to 
harm  him,  otherwise  Henry  must  suffer. 

The  preparations  for  attacking  the  post  were  now 
going  forward,  and  a  little  later  Henry  was  removed 


278  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

in  the  care  of  two  Indians  to  a  station  still  further 
up  the  Ohio.  Here  some  of  the  red  men  had 
something  of  a  village,  and  here,  to  his  astonishment, 
the  youth  found  many  of  the  horses  of  the  pack-train 
and  also  the  sick  man  who  had  so  mysteriously  dis- 
appeared. 

The  sick  man  lay  in  a  wigwam  on  some  blankets. 
Strange  to  relate,  his  recent  adventures  had  not  made 
him  any  weaker  than  he  had  formerly  been;  in  fact, 
they  appeared  to  have  helped  him. 

"I,  too,  tried  to  get  away,  on  one  of  the  horses," 
he  said.  "But  some  Indians  followed  me  up,  and 
captured  me.  They  brought  me  to  this  place,  and 
an  old  Indian  medicine  man  gave  me  some  medicine 
which  has  helped  me  wonderfully." 

The  man  then  wanted  to  know  something  about 
Henry,  and  the  youth  told  him  as  much  as  he  deemed 
necessary.  The  two  were  in  the  midst  of  the  con- 
versation when  two  Indians  came  in  and  hustled 
Henry  out  of  the  wigwam  and  to  another  part  of  the 
village. 

"White  people  talk  too  much,"  said  one  of  the 
Indians,  thereby  giving  the  youth  to  understand 
that  they  did  not  wish  the  pair  to  consult  together. 

From  what  little  Henry  had  learned  he  was  now 
certain  that  a  strong  attack  was  to  be  made  on  the 
trading  post.     As  a  consequence  he  wanted  to  get 


FROM    ENEMIES   TO   FRIENDS  2/9 

free  more  than  ever,  that  he  might  warn  his 
friends. 

His  bonds  were  not  the  same  as  those  which  had 
kept  him  a  prisoner  before,  and  by  working  dili- 
gently over  them,  he  managed  at  last  to  get  one  hand 
free.  The  other  quickly  followed,  and  then  he  freed 
his  feet. 

He  was  alone  in  the  wigwam,  the  Indians  in  the 
village  having  gathered  to  hold  a  pow-wow,  the 
question  being  how  much  they  should  do  to  aid 
Moon  Eye  and  Jean  Bevoir.  The  Indians  had  no 
desire  to  become  hurt  in  a  battle,  yet  they  were 
anxious  to  obtain  some  of  the  many  gifts  which  Be- 
voir had  promised  them  in  case  of  a  victory  over  the 
English. 

With  great  caution  Henry  looked  out  of  the  wig- 
wam and  surveyed  the  situation.  The  camp  was 
close  to  the  river  bank  and  was  backed  up  by  the 
virgin  forest,  which,  at  this  point,  was  rough  and 
uncertain.  It  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  hide  in 
the  forest,  but  the  question  arose,  what  should  he  do 
when  he  got  there  ? 

"Well,  anything  is  better  than  being  a  prisoner," 
he  mused.  "I'll  take  what  I  can  lay  my  hands  on 
and  get  out." 

He  looked  about  him  and  managed  to  secure  an 
old  hunting  knife  and  likewise  a  pretty  fair  bow  and 


280  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

several  arrows.  It  was  growing  dark,  and  at  the 
risk  of  being  seen  he  stole  to  a  place  where  the 
Indians  had  stored  some  blankets  and  some  pro- 
visions. He  supplied  himself  with  what  he  wanted, 
and  then,  like  a  ghost,  glided  into  the  mighty  forest. 

"Now  for  the  trading  post,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. "By  hook  or  crook,  I  must  get  there,  and  pray 
Heaven  I  get  there  before  it  is  too  late !" 

He  knew  that  in  order  to  reach  the  post  he  would 
have  to  keep  close  to  the  river.  He  imagined  the 
trading  post  was  about  three  miles  away,  although 
he  was  by  no  means  sure. 

Traveling  through  the  forest  in  the  dark  proved 
to  be  a  harder  task  than  Henry  had  anticipated. 
He  went  plunging  along  until  several  falls  knocked 
the  wind  completely  out  of  him  and  barked  his  shins 
mightily.  At  last  he  had  to  give  it  up  and  turned 
to  the  river,  resolved  to  travel  on  the  ice,  even 
though  the  danger  might  be  greater. 

Coming  down  to  the  open  he  gazed  around,  and 
seeing  nobody,  stepped  on  the  ice.  It  appeared  to 
be  firm,  and  he  started  on  a  swift  trot,  straight  for 
the  trading  post. 

Crack!  Henry  had  not  been  on  the  ice  over  a 
minute  when  this  ominous  sound  greeted  him.  He 
had  come  to  where  the  surface  was  more  than  slushy. 
The  ice  bent  beneath  him. 


FROM   ENEMIES   TO   FRIENDS  28 1 

"This  won't  do!"  he  cried,  and  tried  to  turn 
toward  the  shore  once  more.  But  the  movement 
came  too  late;  down  went  the  ice  and  Henry  with  it, 
and  the  next  instant  he  was  over  his  head  in  the 
chilling  water. 

Had  Henry  not  been  so  robust  and  such  a  good 
swimmer  he  would  have  perished  on  the  spot.  As 
it  was,  the  coldness  of  the  water  almost  paralyzed 
him,  and  when  he  went  down  he  could  do  little  but 
gasp  and  splutter  and  reach  out  blindly.  Then, 
when  he  came  up,  his  head  hit  the  under  surface  of 
the  ice,  and  down  he  went  as  before. 

The  sturdy  youth  now  realized  that  he  had  a  life 
or  death  struggle  before  him.  No  one  was  at  hand 
to  give  him  aid,  and  if  he  was  to  be  saved  he  must 
do  it  himself.  As  he  came  up  once  more  he  clutched 
at  the  under  surface  of  the  ice  and  felt  around  until 
he  found  something  of  an  opening.  Then,  with 
might  and  main,  he  pulled  himself  up,  until  his  head 
and  shoulders  were  out  of  the  water.  It  was  high 
time,  for  he  could  no  longer  hold  his  breath. 

The  ice  was  all  around  him,  but  so  rotten  that  it 
threatened  at  every  instant  to  break  away  and  let 
him  down  again.  He  was  less  than  ten  yards  from 
the  bank  of  the  river,  but  try  his  best  he  could  make 
no  headway  toward  safety. 

As  Henry  was  wondering  how  long  he  could  stand 


252  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

the  cold  and  keep  from  losing  his  grip  something 
along  the  shore  attracted  his  attention.  He  gave  a 
closer  look  and  saw  three  Indians  stealing  along. 
That  they  were  enemies  he  had  not  the  slightest 
doubt,  yet  he  hailed  their  appearance  with  a  certain 
sense  of  joy.  They  could  save  him,  even  though 
they  might  make  him  their  prisoner  once  more. 

"Help !"  he  called,  as  loudly  as  he  could.     "Help !" 

The  Indians  were  at  first  startled  by  the  call,  and 
in  a  trice  fled  behind  some  trees  and  out  of  sight. 
But  then  they  saw  the  youth's  head  and  noted  his 
plight  and  came  forth  and  ran  to  the  edge  of  the 
river  bank. 

"Help  me !"  went  on  Henry.  "Do  not  let  me 
drown !" 

"We  help,"  grunted  one  of  the  Indians,  and  threw 
out  a  lasso  he  chanced  to  be  carrying.  It  fell  within 
Henry's  reach,  and  he  quickly  grasped  it.  Then  the 
three  red  men  hauled  him  to  a  place  of  safety. 

"My  friend  Henry!"  cried  one  of  the  red  men, 
in  amazement. 

"White  Buffalo !"  gasped  the  youth.  "Can  it  be 
possible?     How  came  you  here?" 

"White  Buffalo  is  journeying  to  the  trading  post. 
He  heard  that  harm  had  befallen  his  old  friends," 
answered  the  old  chief  of  the  Delawares.  "Is  his 
friend  Henry  alone?" 


FROM   ENEMIES   TO   FRIENDS  283 

"Yes.  I  was  out  with  Sam  Barringford,  and  we 
were  captured  by  some  unfriendly  Indians,"  re- 
turned Henry,  and  related  his  story  in  detail,  to 
which  White  Buffalo  listened  with  close  attention. 
Then  the  chief  asked  about  Joseph  Morris,  Dave, 
and  also  about  Jean  Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye. 

"Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye  are  snakes,  not  fit  to  live," 
said  White  Buffalo.  "A  runner  brought  me  the 
news  of  what  was  being  done.  If  they  have  slain 
my  friend  James  Morris  both  of  them  shall  die. 
White  Buffalo  swears  it  by  the  Great  Spirit." 

"Have  you  only  these  two  warriors  with  you?" 

"No,  close  at  hand  White  Buffalo  has  two  score 
men — the  flower  of  his  warriors.  Our  tribe  is 
united  and  in  the  future  all  will  fight  only  for  the 
English.  We  shall  aid  in  driving  the  French  and 
the  bad  Indians  from  the  land." 

"Good  for  you!"  cried  Henry.  The  news  made 
his  heart  give  a  bound.  "If  you  intend  to  help 
us,  the  quicker  you  get  to  the  trading  post  the 
better." 

"It  shall  be  as  my  brother  Henry  wills,"  answered 
the  chief.  "But  Henry  cannot  travel  while  he  is 
wet  and  cold.  Here,  let  him  take  White  Buffalo's 
blanket,"  and  the  chief  passed  it  over. 

"Thank  you,  the  blanket  and  walking  will  keep  me 
warm.     Let  us  get  your  men  together  without  de- 


284  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

lay  and  start  for  the  post.  For  all  I  know  the  attack 
may  have  already  begun !" 

They  left  the  vicinity  of  the  Ohio  and  plunged 
straight  into  the  forest.  While  hurrying  along 
White  Buffalo  explained  that  he  had  been  out  scout- 
ing, to  note  how  matters  were  going.  In  their 
march  westward  they  had  encountered  several  wan- 
dering Indians  who  had  told  them  of  some  of  the 
doings  of  Jean  Bevoir  and  Moon  Eye. 

"I  cannot  believe  that  my  friend  and  brother, 
James  Morris,  is  dead,"  said  the  old  chief  sadly. 
"It  is  hard  upon  my  young  friend  Dave." 

"That  it  is,"  answered  Henry.  "I  am  afraid  Dave 
won't  care  for  the  post  any  more,  even  if  it  is  saved." 

As  soon  as  they  came  to  the  Indians'  stopping- 
place  White  Buffalo  delivered  a  brief  address  to  his 
braves.  They  were  perfectly  willing  to  do  what- 
ever he  wanted  of  them;  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
whole  party  set  off  for  the  trading  post. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


FOR    LIFE    OR    DEATH 


"The  gate  is  giving  way!"  cried  one  of  the  fron- 
tiersmen, when  the  battering  ram  had  struck  it  once 
more  with  tremendous  force. 

"This  way,  everybody !"  called  out  Joseph  Morris. 
"We  must  fight  for  it  now !" 

Half  a  dozen  were  already  stationed  at  convenient 
loopholes  and  were  pouring  in  a  constant  fire  on  the 
Frenchmen.  Several  went  down,  but  the  others  kept 
at  the  work.  Jean  Bevoir  had  furnished  them  with 
all  they  wished  of  strong  liquor,  and  many  were 
reckless  to  the  last  degree. 

On  the  edge  of  the  forest  Moon  Eye  waited  with 
the  majority  of  the  savage  warriors  under  him.  He 
saw  the  gate  quiver  and  splinter,  and  then,  as  there 
came  another  onslaught,  ordered  his  braves  to  ad- 
vance. On  they  came,  yelling  like  demons,  and 
sending  a  flight  of  arrows  over  the  stockade. 

Sam  Barringford  was  in  his  element,  and  from  a 
loophole  nearest  to  the  gate  he  continued  to  shoot 
at  the  Frenchmen.     But  some  of  the  attackers  had 

285 


286  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

stuck  slabs  of  wood  into  their  girdles  in  front,  and 
these  slabs  acted  as  shields. 

"They  are  coming  again  !"  cried  Dave.  He  stood 
with  his  eye  to  a  loophole,  his  gun  smoking  from  a 
recent  discharge.     "They  are  bound  to  get  in." 

"Look  at  the  Indians!''  shrieked  one  of  the  fron- 
tiersmen. "They  have  been  reinforced !  There 
must  be  half  a  hundred  of  them !" 

"If  they  come  in,  perhaps  we  had  better  retreat 
to  the  main  building,"  suggested  Joseph  Morris. 
"We  cannot  stand  up  against  more  than  twice  our 
own  number." 

The  Indians  who  had  been  making  the  demon- 
stration in  the  rear  of  the  trading  post,  now  came 
around  to  the  front.  At  the  same  time  the  French- 
men prepared  for  a  last  attack  on  the  gate.  On  they 
came  with  a  force  that  nothing  could  resist.  Crash ! 
came  the  battering  ram  and  snap !  crash !  went  the 
gate,  the  oaken  bars  splitting  and  breaking  and  send- 
ing a  shower  of  splinters  over  those  behind.  Then 
the  gate  went  down  in  the  snow  and  mud. 

"'Tis  down !  'Tis  down !"  Frenchmen  and  In- 
dians gave  a  cheer  and  a  yell.  Those  who  had  been 
handling  the  battering  ram  stepped  to  one  side,  and 
on  swept  the  warriors  under  Moon  Eye,  straight  for 
the  opening  that  had  been  created  in  the  stockade. 

"Hold  'em  back!"  yelled  Sam  Barringford,  step- 


FOR   LIFE   OR   DEATH  287 

ping  to  the  center  of  the  gateway.  "Give  it  to  'em 
hot!  Don't  let  a  skunk  o'  'em  git  in!"  And  he 
blazed  away  at  one  of  the  leading  Indians.  The 
warrior  pitched  headlong  and  the  man  behind  went 
down  on  top  of  him. 

Dave,  his  uncle,  and  many  of  the  others,  also  fired, 
and  four  of  the  red  warriors  were  either  killed  or 
mortally  wounded.  There  was  a  brief  pause,  and 
then  Moon  Eye  urged  his  braves  to  go  on. 

"Yes!  yes!"  yelled  Jean  Bevoir.  "At  zem!  At 
zem !  Keel  zem  all !  A  big,  big  reward  shall  be 
yours  if  ve  capture  ze  post !" 

"Go  to  the  front — do  some  fighting  yourself!" 
growled  Benoit  Vascal.  He  had  received  an  ugly 
wound  in  the  forearm. 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  answered  Jean  Bevoir,  reck- 
lessly. He  too  had  been  drinking  freely.  And  for- 
ward he  rushed,  and  some  of  his  countrymen  with 
him,  following  up  the  Indians  to  the  gateway  of  the 
stockade. 

The  battle  was  now  on  in  all  its  fury.  Two  of  the 
frontiersmen  had  been  shot  down  and  Sam  Barring- 
ford  had  been  struck  in  the  thigh.  Dave  was  on  the 
point  of  using  the  pistol  he  carried  when  a  warrior 
hit  him  in  the  side  with  an  arrow. 

"Dave !"  cried  Joseph  Morris,  in  alarm,  but  could 
say  no  more,  for  he  found  himself  confronted  also, 


288  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

and  had  to  fight  his  best  to  save  his  life.  He  was 
struck  by  a  bullet  in  the  shoulder,  but  the  wound  was 
of  small  consequence. 

The  noise  was  now  terrific,  the  Indians  yelling 
like  demons  and  the  guns  and  pistols  being  dis- 
charged freely.  Some  of  the  contestants  were  at  it 
hand-to-hand,  with  hunting  knives,  tomahawks,  and 
clubs.  Slowly  but  surely  the  English  were  driven 
back  from  the  gateway,  and  Indians  and  French 
began  to  crowd  into  the  trading-post  enclosure. 

"We  can't  keep  this  up !  They  are  too  many  for 
us !"  gasped  one  of  the  frontiersmen.  The  blood 
was  pouring  from  a  cut  in  his  cheek.  "It's  three  or 
four  to  one!" 

"It's  for  life  or  death!"  came  from  another. 
"Don't  give  in!  The  Indians  will  show  no  mercy! 
We  must  fight  to  a  finish  !" 

All  realized  the  truth  of  the  speaker's  remarks. 
The  Indians  would  surely  kill  them  all  or  else  make 
them  prisoners  first  and  torture  them  to  death  after- 
wards. It  would  be  better  to  die  fighting  than  to 
allow  themselves  to  be  captured. 

In  the  midst  of  the  noise  and  excitement  a  yell 
was  heard  from  the  forest,  and  then  followed  several 
scattering  shots.  No  one  paid  attention  to  these 
for  the  minute,  but  soon  came  a  yell  that  caused  the 
Indians  under  Moon  Eye  to  listen  in  consternation. 


FOR   LIFE   OR   DEATH  289 

It  was  the  war-cry  of  the  Delawares,  and  it  told  that 
they  were  about  to  enter  the  fray. 

"What's  that?"  came  from  Joseph  Morris. 

"I  know  what  it  is !"  yelled  Dave.  His  heart  gave 
a  bound.     "That  is  White  Buffalo's  war-whoop !" 

"White  Buffalo  is  comin' !"  came  from  Sam  Bar- 
ringford.  He  gave  an  answering  cry  at  the  top  of 
his  lungs.  "I  only  hope  he  has  a  good  followin' ! 
We  need  'em !" 

The  band  under  White  Buffalo  was  coming  for- 
ward on  a  run,  firing  rapidly.  With  the  aged  chief 
was  Henry,  who  had  cast  aside  the  blanket,  for- 
getting in  his  excitement  that  he  was  soaked  from 
his  involuntary  bath  in  the  river. 

"Give  it  to  'em !"  shouted  Henry,  firing  a  gun  that 
had  been  given  to  him.  "Shoot  'em  down !  They 
deserve  it !  And  don't  let  any  of  the  Frenchmen  get 
away !" 

The  Delawares  came  up  directly  behind  Moon 
Eye's  band,  and  their  first  volley  of  shots  and  arrows 
laid  four  of  the  enemy  low.  Then  they  fired  once 
more  and  closed  in  with  hunting  knives  and  hatchets, 
doing  fearful  execution.  In  the  midst  of  the 
slaughter  was  White  Buffalo,  his  teeth  set,  his  eyes 
flashing,  and  his  whole  demeanor  the  personification 
of  courage  and  daring.  Of  all  the  whites  he  had 
ever  known,  the  Morrises  were  his  dearest  friends, 


29O  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

and  he  was  more  than  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for 
them. 

The  coming  of  White  Buffalo  with  his  band  gave 
fresh  courage  to  Joseph  Morris  and  those  under  him, 
and  they  renewed  with  vigor  the  fight  they  were 
making  in  the  trading-post  yard.  In  the  meantime 
the  Indians  under  Moon  Eye  and  the  Frenchmen 
scarcely  knew  what  to  do. 

"The  Delawares  have  come  to  give  us  battle !" 
cried  one  of  Moon  Eye's  under  chiefs. 

"They  are  strong  and  fresh !"  added  another,  who 
was  sorely  wounded  in  the  leg. 

"We  are  hemmed  in!"  came  from  one  of  the 
Frenchmen.  "Reinforcements  for  the  post  have 
arrived !" 

Loud  yells  and  more  shots  drowned  out  the  words 
spoken  after  that.  The  din  became  louder  than  ever 
and  the  smoke  rolled  upward  from  every  direction. 
Flenry  was  in  a  fierce  hand-to-hand  fight  with  one 
of  the  Indians  when  Benoit  Vascal  limped  past. 

"Ha!  It  ees  you!"  shrieked  the  Frenchman,  and 
made  a  lunge  at  Henry  with  his  hunting  knife.  But 
at  that  moment  White  Buffalo  threw  his  tomahawk 
at  Vascal.  The  rascal  received  a  glancing  blow 
that  stretched  him  senseless.  Then  over  his  body 
rushed  some  Indians,  and  he  was,  for  the  time 
being,  forgotten. 


FOR   LIFE   OR   DEATH  29 1 

The  coming  of  the  Delawares  was  disconcerting 
to  Jean  Bevoir.  It  came  at  a  moment  when  he  had 
felt  certain  victory  would  soon  rest  with  himself  and 
Moon  Eye.  He  and  his  followers  were  practically 
caught,  some  inside  of  the  gateway  and  some  outside, 
and  knew  not  how  to  turn.  A  galling  fire  was 
poured  into  them  by  the  newcomers,  and  fully  a 
dozen  Indians  and  Frenchmen  went  down  never  to 
rise  again.  Bevoir  was  hit  in  the  shoulder  and 
later  received  a  knife  stab  in  the  side. 

For  fully  ten  minutes  the  battle  continued,  but 
then,  as  he  saw  his  warriors  being  slaughtered,  Moon 
Eye  lost  heart,  and  sounded  the  retreat.  The 
Indians  under  him  got  out  of  the  gateway  as  best 
they  could  and  scattered  to  the  right  and  left,  some 
running  along  the  river  and  others  taking  to  the 
shelter  of  the  forest. 

"After  them !"  said  White  Buffalo,  to  his  braves, 
in  his  native  tongue.  "Let  not  one  of  them  escape. 
They  are  vile  creatures,  not  fit  to  live,  enemies  of  us 
all!"  And  away  went  his  braves  after  the  others, 
following  Moon  Eye's  men  for  over  a  mile  and  kill- 
ing fully  half  of  them.  Moon  Eye  himself  was 
struck  by  a  bullet  in  the  back  and  fell,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  White  Buffalo  finished  the  rascal  with 
his  tomahawk. 

As  soon  as  they  saw  that  their  Indian  allies  were 


292  TRAIL   AND   TRADING    POST 

retreating,  the  Frenchmen  also  tried  to  retire.  All 
told  they  now  numbered  five,  including  Jean  Bevoir. 
They  sneaked  along  the  stockade  until  they  came 
to  a  point  nearest  to  the  mighty  forest  and  then 
made  a  break  for  the  trees.  Those  at  the  post 
fired  several  shots  after  them,  but  these  did  no 
harm. 

"Where  is  Jean  Bevoir?"  asked  Joseph  Morris,  as 
the  battle  came  to  an  end. 

"He  got  away,"  answered  Barringford,  who  was 
panting  from  his  exertions.  "Drat  the  luck !  He'll 
come  back,  I  reckon,  to  make  more  trouble  for  us 
some  other  time." 

"Dave,  you  are  wounded,"  said  his  uncle. 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  answered  the  youth,  bravely. 
"Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that  White  Buffalo  came  up! 
We  should  have  lost  had  it  not  been  for  him  and  his 
warriors." 

"He  has  gone  after  what's  left  of  the  other  red- 
skins," said  one  of  the  frontiersmen.  "I  hope  he 
kills  them  all !" 

Joseph  Morris  and  Dave  were  overjoyed  to  see 
Henry  back  again  and  gave  the  youth  a  warm  greet- 
ing. Torches  were  lit,  and  a  list  made  of  the  dead 
and  wounded,  and  the  latter  were  made  as  comfort- 
able as  possible. 

"I  vote  to  go  after  Jean  Bevoir,"  said  Dave.     "I 


FOR   LIFE   OR   DEATH  293 

must  catch  that  man  and  make  him  tell  me  all  he 
knows  about  father.'' 

"An'  I  am  with  ye,  lad,"  said  Barringford.  "It 
ain't  right  to  let  thet  hound  git  away.  He  has  caused 
all  o'  us  trouble  enough." 

"We  cannot  go  away  and  leave  the  post  alone," 
said  Joseph  Morris.  "Bevoir  might  come  back  in 
the  meantime  and  take  possession." 

"We  can  fool  him,"  said  Dave.  "Let  us  raise  the 
gate  and  fasten  it  in  some  manner  and  then  leave  a 
few  men  on  guard.  He  won't  know  but  what  all  of 
us  are  inside." 

This  was  considered  a  good  plan,  and  leaving  the 
dead  where  they  had  fallen,  those  able  to  work 
quickly  set  the  broken  gate  into  place  and  propped 
it  fast  with  some  heavy  logs.  Then  seven  of  the 
party,  including  the  planter,  Barringford,  Dave,  and 
Henry,  left  the  post  and  took  to  the  forest  in 
the  direction  Jean  Bevoir  and  his  followers  had 
gone. 

"Be  careful,"  warned  Sam  Barringford.  "We 
don't  want  to  run  into  a  trap.  Remember,  Jean  Be- 
voir is  foxy,  an'  always  was." 

The  night  was  still  fairly  clear,  and  they  followed 
the  trail  through  the  wet  snow  with  ease.  Evi- 
dently the  Frenchman  had  not  imagined  that  he 
would  be  pursued,  and  so  had  not  taken  any  pre- 


294  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

cautions  to  hide  his  tracks.  The  trail  led  straight 
forward  for  nearly  a  mile,  then  curved  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  river. 

"I  believe  he  is  bound  for  that  Indian  village  I 
was  at,"  said  Henry,  who  had,  during  the  brief  rest 
at  the  post,  donned  some  dry  clothing.  "Perhaps  he 
hopes  to  get  aid  there.  Well,  he  will  be  disap- 
pointed, I  think,  although  I  am  not  sure." 

As  they  drew  closer  to  the  village  they  advanced 
with  increased  caution,  and  each  member  of  the  party 
looked  to  make  sure  that  his  weapons  were  in  proper 
order.  All  were  tired  out,  and  each  was  more  or 
less  wounded,  but  none  thought  of  giving  up  the 
task  they  had  undertaken. 

Dave  was  particularly  eager  to  meet  Bevoir  and, 
if  possible,  make  the  rascally  French  trader  a 
prisoner.  He  felt  that  Bevoir  was  the  only  one  to 
give  him  all  the  particulars  of  his  father's  death  and 
burial,  and  he  felt  that  if  the  Frenchman  got  away 
now  he  might  remain  away  forever. 

At  last  they  saw  a  distant  gleam  of  light  through 
the  forest  and  knew  that  the  Indian  camp  was  not  far 
off.     They  moved  ahead  slower  than  ever. 

"I  see  somebody  moving  around !"  cried  Dave,  in 
a  low  voice.     "I  think  it  is  an  Indian." 

"I  see  two  Indians,"  said  Sam  Barringford.  "But 
they  are  old  men  and  unarmed." 


FOR   LIFE   OR   DEATH  295 

They  drew  closer  still,  until  only  a  fringe  of 
bushes  hid  the  dark  camp  from  view.  The  campfire 
had  burned  low,  and  they  could  see  that  the  most 
of  the  wigwams  had  been  taken  down.  Evidently 
what  was  left  of  the  tribe  were  getting  ready  to 
leave  that  vicinity. 

Presently  they  heard  sounds  from  the  opposite 
side  of  the  camp,  and  two  Indians  and  three  French- 
men appeared,  leading  a  number  of  horses. 

"There  is  Jean  Bevoir  now,"  whispered  Henry. 

"Yes,  and  those  horses  are  our  own,"  answered 
his  father. 

The  horses  were  stopped  at  the  doorway  of  one  of 
the  wigwams  and  an  Indian  went  in,  to  appear  a 
moment  later  leading  the  sick  man  whom  Henry  had 
seen  but  a  few  hours  before. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  take  me?"  asked  the 
man,  feebly. 

"You  vill  know  zat  in  ze  morning,"  answered  Jean 
Bevoir.     "You  shall  ride  a  horse." 

Then  Bevoir  entered  another  wigwam.  Soon 
he  came  forth,  dragging  another  man  by  the 
arm. 

"Don't!"  gasped  the  man,  feebly.  "Don't!  I— 
I  cannot  stand  it !  Have  a  little  mercy,  Bevoir,  I — I 
beg  of  you !"     And  the  man  fell  in  a  heap. 

"Git  up !"  roared  Jean  Bevoir,  savagely.     "You 


296  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

shall  come  with  me.     Dead  or  alive,  I  shall  take  you 
avay !" 

"See!  see!"  shrieked  Dave,  forgetting  himself 
completely.  "See,  it  is  my  father!  Jean  Bevoir, 
let  him  alone,  or  I'll  shoot  you  on  the  spot !" 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

DAYS   OF    PEACE CONCLUSION 

It  was  indeed  James  Morris  who  lay  on  the 
ground  at  Jean  Bevoir's  feet. 

The  trader  had  not  been  killed,  only  seriously 
wounded,  and  for  days  had  lain  between  life  and 
death,  in  the  care  of  an  old  Indian  medicine  man. 
Many  a  time  the  French  trader  had  thought  to  slay 
him,  but  had  hesitated,  thinking  he  might  some  day 
make  use  of  his  prisoner. 

James  Morris  was  still  so  weak  that  he  could  do 
nothing  for  himself,  yet  Jean  Bevoir  wanted  him  to 
mount  a  horse  and  ride  away,  to  a  cave  up  the  river, 
where,  in  years  gone  by,  the  French  trader  and  his 
trappers  had  had  a  regular  rendezvous. 

It  made  Dave's  blood  boil  to  see  his  father  so 
abused,  and  forgetful  of  everything  else,  he  ran  for- 
ward, leveling  his  rifle  at  Bevoir's  head  as  he  did  so. 

"Dave !  My  son  Dave !"  cried  James  Morris, 
and  there  was  a  ring  of  relief  and  joy  in  his  tones. 

"Father!"  was  all  the  son  answered.  He  still 
297 


298  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

kept  his  eyes  on  the  French  trader,  who  shrank  back- 
in  consternation. 

"Come  on,  all  of  you !"  cried  Joseph  Morris,  who 
now  saw  that  further  secrecy  would  be  useless. 
"Surrender,  you  villains,  or  we'll  shoot  you  down 
like  dogs !" 

"Thet's  the  talk!"  came  from  Barringford,  and 
as  he  saw  one  of  the  Indians  raise  a  gun  he  shot  the 
warrior  through  the  heart. 

The  next  instant  the  entire  camp  was  in  alarm. 
Thinking  a  large  body  of  English  had  arrived,  the 
few  Indians  present  took  to  their  heels  and  disap- 
peared into  the  forest  as  if  by  magic.  The  French- 
men tried  to  follow,  fighting  as  they  did  so.  Jean 
Bevoir  aimed  a  pistol  at  Dave  and  fired,  the  bullet 
striking  the  youth  in  the  side.  As  he  staggered  and 
fell  Henry  fired  at  the  French  trader,  and  so  did  two 
others,  and  Bevoir  threw  up  his  arms  and  pitched 
headlong  into  the  smoldering  campfire,  scattering 
the  embers  in  all  directions. 

Inside  of  five  minutes  the  battle  was  at  an  end  and 
the  English  were  in  complete  possession  of  the  camp 
and  had  also  gained  possession  of  their  horses  and  a 
large  portion  of  their  stores.  What  was  left  of  the 
French  and  Indians  disappeared,  and  that  was  the 
last  seen  of  them. 

Dave's    wound    was    but    slight,    and    his    first 


Bevoir   pitched    headlong-    into   the    smoldering-   campfire. 
Page  298. 


DAYS   OF   PEACE — CONCLUSION  299 

thoughts  were  of  his  father.  The  two  embraced 
over  and  over  again,  the  tears  of  joy  standing  in  the 
eyes  of  each.  Joseph  Morris,  Henry,  and  Barring- 
ford  were  likewise  more  than  happy  to  learn  that  the 
trader  was  really  alive. 

"I  am  the  only  one  living  to  tell  the  tale,"  said 
James  Morris.  "The  others  were  killed  or  mortally 
wounded." 

"Not  all,"  answered  Dave.  "Peaceful  Jones  es- 
caped and  told  us  the  news,  and  that  is  what  brought 
us  here  so  quickly." 

"You  have  had  a  great  fight.  I  could  hear  some 
of  the  shooting,"  continued  the  trader. 

"Yes,  and  we  might  have  had  the  worst  of  it, 
only  White  Buffalo  came  to  our  aid." 

"And  where  is  he  now?" 

"Gone  in  pursuit  of  Moon  Eye  and  his  followers." 

After  that  James  Morris  told  his  story  in  detail, 
to  which  Dave  and  the  others  listened  with  much 
interest. 

"At  first  I  was  kept  at  the  post,"  said  he.  "Jean 
Bevoir  pretended  to  be  kind  and  considerate,  but  I 
soon  found  out  his  object.  He  had  drawn  up  some 
documents  stating  that  I  surrendered  to  him  all  my 
rights  and  interests  in  the  trading  post  and  he 
wanted  me  to  sign  them.  When  I  refused  he  got 
angry  and  wanted  to  kill  me.     But  some  of  the  men 


300  TRAIL   AND    TRADING    POST 

interfered  and  then  I  was  brought  to  this  place. 
Then,  of  a  sudden,  I  was  treated  better  again. 
From  the  Indians  I  learned  that  Bevoir  had  an  idea 
that  if  he  got  cornered  later  on  he  would  use  me  in 
some  way  for  his  benefit — as  a  hostage,  or  something 
like  that." 

"Just  what  he  wanted  to  do  with  me,  when  I  was  a 
prisoner,''  said  Henry.  "It  is  queer  that  I  didn't  see 
you  when  I  was  here,"  he  added. 

"They  must  have  kept  us  apart  purposely,  Henry." 
James  Morris  drew  a  long  breath.  "How  good  it 
feel  to  be  together  once  more.  I  declare,  it  seems 
to  brace  me  up  wonderfully !"  And  his  face  showed 
his  relief. 

Somebody  had  dragged  Jean  Bevoir's  body  from 
the  fire  just  after  the  man  fell.  The  trader  was  not 
yet  dead,  and  lay  groaning  and  writhing  in  a  fearful 
manner.  Nothing  could  be  done  for  him,  and  he 
died  at  sunrise.  It  was  the  last  of  a  misspent  life, 
full  of  golden  opportunities  which  the  rascal  had 
trampled  under  foot.  His  body  was  laid  in  a  hollow 
and  some  flat  stones  placed  over  it,  to  keep  off  the 
wild  animals.  His  pockets  were  searched  and 
the  fraudulent  documents  confiscated  by  Joseph 
Morris. 

"We  must  get  back  to  the  post  as  soon  as  we  can," 
said   Barringford.   after  the  excitement  was  over. 


DAYS   OF    PEACE— CONCLUSION  301 

"Remember,  we  don't  know  how  matters  are  a-goin' 
there." 

"I  have  heard  no  shots,"  answered  Henry.  "And 
that  is  a  good  sign." 

"I  do  not  see  how  anything  can  be  wrong  there," 
said  Dave.  "We  have  wound  up  the  Bevoir  crowd 
and  you  can  trust  White  Buffalo  to  take  care  of 
Moon  Eye's  tribe." 

Nevertheless,  the  start  for  the  trading  post  was 
made  as  soon  as  matters  could  be  gotten  into  shape 
for  the  journey.  The  two  sick  men  were  carried  on 
stretchers  made  of  blankets  tied  to  long  poles,  and 
all  took  turns  at  the  task.  Dave  did  not  mind  the 
load  at  all,  and  in  the  joy  at  finding  his  parent  forgot 
all  about  his  own  injuries,  which,  fortunately,  proved 
slight. 

The  strange  man  who  was  sick  wanted  to  know 
what  it  all  meant,  and  smiled  when  told.  Then  he 
heaved  a  sudden  sigh. 

"I,  too,  have  had  many  troubles,"  he  said. 
"Many,  many  troubles.  I  wish  that  I  could  get 
some  help." 

"We  will  aid  you  all  we  can,"  said  Henry,  kindly. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  my  head — it  is  not  clear. 
My  brain  whirls  when  I  try  to  think.  The  past  is 
such  a  blank !" 

"You  were  hit  on  the  head,  that's  the  trouble," 


302  TRAIL   AND    TRADING   POST 

went  on  the  youth.  "But  I  think  you  will  get  over 
it  soon." 

"Perhaps — some  days  I  know  I  feel  better.  But 
then  my  head  whirls  again  and  I  am  in  the  dark! 
Oh,  it  is  awful !"  And  the  sick  man  sighed  as 
before. 

"Can't  you  remember  where  you  came  from  at 
all?" 

"I  remember  the  sea — the  great  boundless  ocean, 
and  a  great  storm.  I  was  alone  then — all  alone. 
And  I  remember  before  that, — a  beautiful  garden 
and  kind  friends  and  relatives,  and  the  babies,  the 
beautiful  babies!  And  then  I  remember — I  remem- 
ber  "     The  man  paused.     "It  is  cloudy  again — 

dark — I  can  remember  nothing,  nothing!"  And  he 
lay  back  and  closed  his  eyes. 

"Maybe  as  how  he'll  never  be  jest  right  ag'in," 
whispered  Sam  Barringford.  "It's  terribul,  no  two 
ways  on't!  I  wish  I  could  do  somethin'  fer 
him." 

"It  will  take  time,"  said  Joseph  Morris.  "It  is 
useless  to  worry  him  now,  it  will  only  make  matters 
worse."  And  so  they  let  the  strange  man  rest  in 
peace.  They  had  previously  searched  his  pockets, 
but  had  found  nothing  by  which  he  could  be  identi- 
fied. 

The  journey  to  the  trading  post  accomplished, 


DAYS   OF  PEACE— CONCLUSION  303 

they  found  matters  quiet  there.  No  more  of  the 
enemy  had  appeared,  and  nothing  had  been  seen  of 
White  Buffalo  and  his  followers.  The  old  Delaware 
chief  came  in  about  noon,  bringing  the  news  that 
Moon  Eye's  tribe  had  been  completely  shattered. 

"They  will  never  trouble  my  white  friends  again," 
said  White  Buffalo.  "Those  who  are  left  alive 
have  learned  a  lesson  which  they  will  never 
forget." 

The  old  Indian  chief  was  more  than  glad  to  learn 
that  James  Morris  was  living,  and  shook  hands 
warmly. 

"You  have  done  me  and  mine  a  great  service, 
White  Buffalo,"  said  the  trader,  gratefully.  "We 
shall  not  forget  it." 

"White  Buffalo  knows  his  real  friends,"  answered 
the  aged  chief,  calmly.  "He  is  glad  to  serve  them." 
Then  he  and  his  warriors  went  off  to  get  something 
to  eat,  for  they  had  had  nothing  since  the  day  be- 
fore. They  were  treated  to  the  best  the  post  af- 
forded. 

Among  those  found  living  after  the  battle  at  the 
post  was  Benoit  Vascal.  He  had  been  sorely 
wounded  and  trampled  upon  in  the  melee,  and  it 
was  evident  he  could  not  long  survive  his  hurts.  He 
was  placed  on  a  rude  couch  and  there  he  remained, 
since  he  could  swallow  neither  food  nor  water.     He 


304  TRAIL    AND    TRADING    POST 

groaned  continually  and  bitterly  bewailed  the  fate 
that  had  brought  him  to  the  place. 

When  the  strange  sick  man  was  brought  in  he  was 
placed  on  a  cot  not  far  from  where  Benoit  Vascal 
was  resting.  For  some  time  the  two  did  not  notice 
each  other.  Then,  of  a  sudden,  the  Frenchman 
glanced  at  the  other  and  uttered  a  shriek  of  amaze- 
ment and  terror. 

"Tis  he !  'Tis  he !  'Tis  the  judgment !"  he 
screamed  in  French.  "Take  him  away!  I  cannot 
bear  to  face  him!" 

At  the  sound  of  Vascal's  voice  the  strange  sick 
man  turned  over  and  gave  him  a  wandering  look. 
Then  he  also  started  up  and  gave  a  cry. 

"You!  you!"  he  screamed.  "You!  I  know  you, 
Benoit  Vascal !  What  have  you  done  with  my  chil- 
dren!" He  staggered  from  his  couch,  fell  forward, 
and  caught  the  Frenchman  by  the  arm.  "Tell  me! 
My  children,  what  of  them?" 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  demanded  Sam  Bar- 
ringford,  who  chanced  to  be  close  by. 

"This  man  !"  panted  the  strange  sick  man.  "He — 
he  stole  my  children !  He  is  the  rascal  I  have  been 
hunting  for — he  and  another,  a  Paul  Camont.  They 
took  my  twin  boys !  Ah,  I  remember  it  all  now ! 
Where  are  my  children  ?  Don't  dare  to  say  you 
killed  them !" 


DAYS   OF   PEACE — CONCLUSION  305 

"Your  children — twins/'  gasped  the  old  frontiers- 
man. "Can  it  be  possible  thet  you  air  Mr.  Maurice 
Hamilton  ?" 

"Yes !  yes !  that  is  my  name !  How  strange  I  could 
not  think  of  it  before.  Maurice  Hamilton,  yes,  of 
London." 

"Well,  by  the  eternal!"  came  faintly  from  Bar- 
ringford.  He  looked  at  the  sick  man  sharply.  "It 
must  be  so — ye  look  alike,  same  eyes,  same  nose,  an' 
all.     This  staggers  me !" 

"Let  me  go!"  came  faintly  from  Benoit  Vascal. 
"He  has  ze  children — I  haf  zem  not,  no!  Let  me 
go!"  for  the  other  man  now  held  him  by  the  throat. 

The  cries  and  loud  talking  had  attracted  a  crowd, 
and  all  pushed  forward  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  dis- 
turbance. 

"It's  the  greatest  thing  ye  ever  heard  tell  on,"  said 
Sam  Barringford.  "This  man  is  Maurice  Hamil- 
ton, and  the  father  o'  the  twins." 

"Can  it  be  possible !"  exclaimed  Dave. 

"But  where — where  are  my  children?"  asked 
Maurice  Hamilton. 

"They  are  safe — leas'wise  they  war,  the  last  I 
heard  o'  'em,"  answered  Barringford.  "But  this 
gits  me!     I  never  dreamed  o'  sech  a  thing." 

"Nor  did  I,"  added  Joseph  Morris. 

After  that  there  remained  nothing  to  do  but  to  tell 


306  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

Maurice  Hamilton  all  about  his  little  ones,  how  Bar- 
ringford  had  found  them,  and  how  they  had  been 
cared  for  ever  since  by  the  Morrises.  The  sick  man 
could  not  take  it  all  in,  but  he  understood  enough 
and  the  tears  of  joy  streamed  down  his  wan 
face. 

"How  I  long  to  see  them — my  darling  boys !"  he 
murmured. 

"And  you  shall  see  them,"  said  Joseph  Morris. 
"But  first  you  must  get  well." 

"And  what  of — of  that  rascal  who  robbed 
me?" 

"He  is  dying — let  him  rest,"  was  the  planter's  soft 
answer.  And  then,  for  the  time  being,  Maurice 
Hamilton  was  silent.  From  that  hour  on  he  mended 
rapidly,  both  mentally  and  physically,  until,  two 
months  later,  he  was  as  well  as  ever.  Benoit  Vascal 
died  two  days  later,  and  was  buried  in  a  common 
grave,  along  with  the  other  Frenchmen  who  had 
fallen  in  the  battle  for  the  possession  of  the  trading 
post. 

Maurice  Hamilton's  story  was  a  long  one,  and  I 
have  no  space  to  relate  it  here.  He  was  a  fairly 
well-to-do  man  who,  after  the  death  of  his  beautiful 
wife  and  his  father  and  mother,  had  come  to 
America  to  seek  his  fortune.  Upon  arriving  here 
his  twins  had  been  stolen  from  him  by  Benoit  Vascal, 


DAYS   OF    PEACE — CONCLUSION  307 

aided  by  Paul  Camont.  He  had  in  vain  tried  to 
follow  the  rascals  up,  although  he  had  received 
several  letters  offering  to  compromise  the  matter  for 
a  certain  amount.  He  said  that  his  wife,  when  a 
girl,  had  received  an  offer  of  marriage  from  Vascal 
and  had  refused  him,  and  this  had  made  the  French- 
man so  bitter.  The  two  gold  lockets  the  twins 
possessed  contained  the  portraits  of  Mr.  Hamilton's 
father  and  mother. 

"This  clears  up  that  mystery,"  said  Dave  to 
Henry.  "I  must  say  I  am  glad  of  it — on  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton's account." 

"Yes,  and  also  on  account  of  the  twins,"  answered 
his  cousin.  "But  Sam  will  hate  to  have  them  go, 
and  mother  and  Nell  will  hate  it,  too." 

"Well,  such  things  can't  be  helped." 

Now  that  the  fighting  was  over,  all  hands  found  a 
great  many  things  to  do  in  and  around  the  trading 
post.  A  new  gate  was  put  into  place,  stronger  even 
than  the  other,  and  the  stockade  generally  was  also 
strengthened.  The  stable  was  enlarged,  so  that  the 
numerous  horses  might  have  proper  quarters,  and 
another  room  was  built  to  the  main  building.  In 
the  meantime  some  of  the  trappers  and  Indians  went 
out  on  the  hunt  and  brought  in  plenty  of  meat  and 
not  a  few  skins  of  value. 

With  the  coming  of  spring  came  a  fresh  alarm, 


308  TRAIL  AND   TRADING    POST 

and  it  was  not  deemed  wise  to  send  an  expedition 
eastward.  Pontiac  was  trying  his  best  to  combine 
the  Indians  in  another  conspiracy.  But  his  plans 
failed,  and  in  the  end  the  noted  Indian  chief  fell, 
brained  by  a  tomahawk  in  the  hands  of  another 
Indian.  So  perished  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  at 
the  same  time  one  of  the  most  warlike  Indian  chiefs 
this  country  ever  saw. 

At  last  the  way  seemed  clear  for  a  start  for  Will's 
Creek,  and  an  expedition  set  out,  by  way  of  Fort 
Pitt.  Among  those  to  go  along  were  Joseph  Morris, 
Sam  Barringford,  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  Henry.  Mr. 
Hamilton  was  feeling  in  the  best  of  health  once  more, 
and  he  and  the  old  frontiersman  had  become  warm 
friends.  The  gentleman  wanted  to  reward  Barring- 
ford  for  what  he  had  done,  but  the  latter  would  not 
listen  to  it. 

"Let  me  see  them  twins  now  an'  then,"  said  the 
old  frontiersman.  "Thet  will  be  reward  enough  fer 
me."     And  so  it  was  arranged. 

It  was  a  great  day  when  the  party  reached  the 
Morris  homestead.  Maurice  Hamilton  hugged  his 
children  tightly  to  his  breast  and  kissed  them  re- 
peatedly, and  Mrs.  Morris  was  so  affected  that  she 
wept. 

"They  are  good  boys,"  she  said.  "I'll  hate 
awfully  to  have  them  go  away." 


DAYS   OF    PEACE — CONCLUSION  309 

"Then  supposing  I  leave  them  here  for  the  pres- 
ent?" answered  Maurice  Hamilton.  "I  have  no 
home  of  my  own." 

"Yes !  yes !  Do  leave  them,  please !"  cried  Nell ; 
and  so  it  was  arranged,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all  concerned. 

Here  let  me  add  a  few  words  and  then  bring  to  a 
close  this  story  6f  "Trail  and  Trading  Post,"  and 
likewise  this  "Colonial  Series." 

During  the  ensuing  summer  matters  fared  very 
well  both  at  the  Morris  homestead  and  at  the  trading 
post.  The  twins  grew  up  healthy  and  strong,  and 
looked  upon  Sam  Barringford  as  their  uncle,  which 
pleased  the  old  frontiersman  mightily.  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton came  and  went,  for  he  had  property  on  the  St. 
Lawrence  and  near  Philadelphia  to  look  after.  He 
was  glad  to  have  his  children  in  such  excellent  care. 

"I  hope  them  little  chaps  never  see  sech  fightin 
as  we've  seen,"  said  Barringford  to  Henry  one  day, 
as  he  was  dancing  both  on  his  knees. 

"I  don't  think  they  will,"  answered  Henry.  But 
he  was  mistaken.  The  twins  did  see  some  spirited 
fighting — during  the  Revolutionary  War — the  par- 
ticulars of  which  I  may  relate  some  other  time. 
They  were  such  sturdy,  manly  chaps  that  nobody 
could  help  but  like  them. 


3IO  TRAIL   AND   TRADING   POST 

During  the  summer  the  trading  post  was  attacked 
just  once,  by  a  band  of  Indians,  under  an  old  chief 
who  in  years  gone  by  had  been  one  of  the  Morrises' 
worst  foes.  The  warriors  were  defeated  without  a 
loss  among  the  whites,  while  the  Indians  lost  several 
men,  including  the  chief.  After  that  the  red  men 
remained  away  from  that  territory  for  many  years 
to  come. 

As  soon  as  peace  was  firmly  established,  other 
traders  flocked  to  the  Ohio,  followed  by  regular  set- 
tlers. Many  of  the  posts  were  valuable,  but  none 
more  so  than  that  belonging  to  the  Morrises.  More 
than  this,  James  Morris  and  Dave  dealt  fairly  by  all 
who  wished  to  do  business  with  them,  be  they  whites 
or  Indians,  and  as  a  consequence  they  soon 
established  a  reputation  that  was  known  far 
and  wide.  The  very  best  skins  and  furs  were 
offered  to  them,  and  they  began  to  make  money 
rapidly. 

"How  things  have  changed  since  first  we  came  out 
here,"  said  Dave  one  day.  "And  what  a  number  of 
events  have  happened  since  then !" 

"Let  us  be  thankful  that  all  has  ended  well,"  re- 
plied his  father.  "Many  have  suffered  deeply,  while 
we  have  escaped." 

"I  am  thankful,"  said  Dave,  reverently.  "Very 
thankful  indeed!" 


DAYS   OF   PEACE — CONCLUSION  3  I  I 

White  Buffalo,  who  stood  near,  nodded  his  head 
slowly. 

"The  Great  Spirit  has  watched  over  us  all,"  said 
he.  "Blessed  be  the  Great  Spirit,  both  of  the  white 
man  and  of  the  Indians." 


THE    END 


THE  LAKEPORT  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEMEYER 

VOLUME  ONE 

THE  GUN  CLUB  BOYS  OF  LAKEPORT 

Or  The  Island  Camp 

321  pages     Illustrated     Price  $1.25 

A  BRIGHT,  breezy,  outdoor  story,  telling  how  several  lads  organized 
a  gun  club  and  went  camping  in  the  winter  time.  They  had  with 
them  a  trusty  old  hunter  who  revealed  to  them  many  of  the  secrets  of 
Nature  as  found  in  the  woods.  A  volume  any  boy  who  loves  a  gun 
will  appreciate. 

This   story   of    camping-   and   hunting   will   appeal    to  every  American  boy. — 
Register,  JVezv  Haven,  Conn. 

VOLUME^  TWO 

THE  BASEBALL  BOYS  OF  LAKEPORT 

Or  The  Winning  Run 

315  pages     Illustrated     Price  $1.25 

WITH  the  coming  of  summer  the  boys  turned  their  attention  to 
baseball  and  organized  a  club,  and  played  many  thrilling  games. 
The  rivalry  was  of  the  keenest,  and  the  particulars  are  given  of  a  plot 
to  injure  the  Lakeport  nine  and  make  them  lose  the  _nost  important 
game  of  all. 

Will  appeal  to  every  healthy  American  boy. — American,  Baltimore,  Md. 

VOLUME  THREE 

THE  BOAT  CLUB  BOYS  OF  LAKEPORT 

Or  The  Water  Champions 

300  pages     Illustrated    Price  $1.25 

'  I  'HIS  time  the  scene  is  shifted  to  the  lake.  The  boys  ail  know  how 
*  to  row  and  sail  a  boat,  and  they  organize  a  club  and  have  fun 
galore.  During  a  squall  on  the  lake  something  of  great  value  is  lost 
overboard.  The  abduction  of  a  little  girl  adds  to  the  interest  of  the 
volume.  Every  lad  who  loves  the  water  will  read  this  volume  with 
pleasure. 

This   author   knows   how   to   please  red-blooded  lads. —  Times-Union,  Albany, 

n.t. 


Mr.  Stratemeyer's  popularity  will  be  increased  by  "  Dave 
Porter." — Times,  Hartford,  Conn. 

DAVE  PORTER  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEMEYER 

VOLUME  ONE 

DA  VE  PORTER  A  T  OAK  HALL 

Or  the  Schooldays  of  an  American  *Boy 

312  pages    Illustrated    Price  $1.25 

'NTEVER  was  there  a  brighter,  more  manly,  thoroughly  up-to-date  boy 
than  Dave  Porter,  and  all  boys  who  read  about  him,  and  girls  too, 
for  the  matter  of  that,  will  be  sure  to  love  him  from  the  start.  How,  as 
a  green  country  boy,  he  went  to  Oak  Hall,  how  he  was  hazed,  and  how 
he  had  to  fight  his  way  through  is  told  with  a  naturalness  that  is  true 
to  life. 
The  story  is  told  with  great  fidelity  to  real  life. — Eagle,  Brooklyn,  JV.  Y. 

VOLUME  TWO 

DAVE  PORTER  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS 

Or  The  Strange  Cruise  of  the  Stormy  Petrel 

286  pages     Illustrated     Price  $1.25 

l~\AVE  is  the  same  bright,   wide-awake  youth  he  was  at  school,  and  his 

adventures  on  shipboard  and  among  the  unexplored  islands  of  the 

South  Seas  will  render  him  dearer  to  the  hearts  of  the  boys  than  ever.  Dave 

is  trying  to  solve  the  mystery  of  his  parentage,   and  several  of  his  school 

chums  are  with  him  during  his  wanderings,   some  sharing  his  perils.     A 

great  tidal  wave  sends  the  ship  into  a  strange  harbor  and  there  follows  a 

mutiny  which  places  a  number  on  board  in  great  peril. 

Mr.  Stratemeyer's  heroes  are  full  of  fun,  and  the  activity  that  goes  with  youth, 
strength  and  high  spirits.  They  are  all  saie — they  work  hard  and  play  fairly. 
— Star,    Washington ,   D.  C. 

Mr.  Stratemeyer  has  seldom  introduced  a  more  popular  hero  than  Dave  Porter. 
He  is  a  typical  boy,  manly,  brave,  always  ready  for  a  good  time  if  it  can  be  obtained 
in  an  honorable  way. —  Wisconsin,  AIilvjaukee%    Wis. 


DAVE  PORTER  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEHEYER 

VOLUME  THREE 

DAVE  PORTER'S  RETURN  TO  SCHOOL 
Or  Winning  the  Medal  of  Honor 

304  pages    Illustrated    Price  $1.25 

IN  this  volume  the  scene  is  shifted  back  to  Oak  Hall,  and  once  again 
Dave  becomes  the  centre  of  as  interesting  a  group  of  schoolboys  as  it  is 
psssible  to  imagine.  There  is  a  strong  plot,  with  plenty  of  fun,  and  not 
a  few  rivalries  on  the  athletic  field,  and  the  whole  volume  has  a  swing 
and  a  dash  that  are  irresistible. 

A  good  wholesome  story,  full  of  fun  and  go. —  Christian    Work,   JV.  Y. 
Each  story  that  comes  from  Edward  Stratemeyer's  pen  is  eagerly  read. — Boston 
Herald. 

VOLUME  FOUR 

DAVE  PORTER  IN  THE  FAR  NORTH 

Or  The  Pluck  of  an  American  Schoolboy 

285  pages     Illustrated    Price  $1.25 

TN  this  book  Dave  is  still  at  his  well-liked  boarding-school,  Oak  Hall, 
*■  with  his  lively  but  manly  comrades,  who  rejoice  with  him  that  he  not 
only  has  discovered  his  parentage,  but  has  a  father  and  sister  living,  though 
unaware  of  his  existence.  Dave  cannot  rest  until  he  finds  those  of  his 
own  family,  and  having  secured  leave  of  absence  from  school  and  accom- 
panied by  his  chum,  the  son  of  a  United  States  Senator,  he  goes  to 
England  only  to  find  that  his  father  has  left  on  an  expedition  to  the  upper 
part  of  Norway.  The  boys  follow  in  a  most  exciting  pursuit  which  is 
replete  with  adventure. 

The  success  of  the  "Dave  Porter  Series"  is  already  surpassing  Mr.  Stratemeyer's 
previous  triumphs. — American,   Nashville,    Tenn. 

Dave  Porter  is  a  typical  American  schoolboy,  a  scholar,  an  athlete  and  a  good 
fellow.— Herald,  Rochester,  N.   Y. 


SOLDIERS  OF  FORTUNE  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEMEYER 

VOLUME  ONE 

ON  TO  PEKIN 

Or  Old  Glory  in  China 

Cloth    330  pages     Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute    $1.25 

THE  hero,  Gilbert  Pennington,  goes  from  the  Philippines  with  the 
Ninth  Regiment  to  take  part  in  the  rescue  of  the  beleaguered  Brit- 
ish Embassy  at  Pekin  by  the  international  forces.  Mr.  Stratemeyer  has 
risen  to  the  occasion  by  giving,  in  addition  to  one  of  his  very  best  stories, 
a  store  of  information  concerning  China  and  the  Chinese,  conveyed  in  a 
natural  and  entertaining  manner. 

The  demands  of  boy  readers  are  peculiar,  and  the  author  who  can  sat- 
isfy them,  not  once  or  twice,  but  aniformly,  must  possess  rare  ability  in 
an  extremely  difficult  field.  Such  an  author  is  Edward  Stratemeyer.  — » 
Sunday  News,  Newark,  N.  J. 

VOLUME  TWO 

UNDER  THE  MIKADO S  FLAG 

Or  Young  Soldiers  of  Fortune 

370  pages    Cloth    Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute    Price  $1.25 

'  T  "[NDER  the  Mikado's  Flag"  relates  the  adventures  of  two  young 
V_^  Americans  in  Korea  and  Manchuria  during  the  outbreak  of  the 
great  war  between  Russia  and  Japan,  one  of  the  leading  characters  being 
Gilbert  Pennington,  the  hero  of  "On  to  Pekin,"  and  the  other,  Ben 
Russell,  who  with  his  brothers,  Larry  and  Walter,  is  so  well  known  to  the 
thousands  of  readers  of  the  famous  "Old  Glory  Series."  It  closes  with 
the  great  Battle  of  Liao-Yang,  and  is  as  valuable  for  the  information 
conveyed  as  it  is  interesting  as  a  story. 

Mr.  Stratemeyer  is  undoubtedly  improving  very  greatly  on  the  average 
book  for  boys.  —  Star,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

He  knows  how  to  attract  and  hold  boy  readers.  —  Evening  Standard, 
New  Bedford)  Mass. 


SOLDIERS  OF  FORTUNE  SERIES 

By   EDWARD   STRATEMEYER 


VOLUME  THREE 

AT  THE  FALL  OF  TORT  ARTHUR 

Or  A  Young  American  in  the  Japanese  Navy 

300  pages     Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute    Price  $1.25 

'T^HIS  story  relates,  primarily,  the  adventures  of  Larry  Russell, 
who  is  on  board  his  old  ship,  the  Columbia,  which  is  carry- 
ing a  cargo  for  the  Japanese  government.  The  young  sailor  joins 
the  Japanese  navy,  and  under  Admiral  Togo  assists  at  the  bombard- 
ment of  Port  Arthur.  Life  in  the  Japanese  navy  is  described  in 
detail,  and  also  life  in  Port  Arthur  during  the  siege  and  bombard- 
ment, which  has  few  parallels  in  history. 

"At  the  Fall  of  Port  Arthur"  is  very  well  told.  —  Chronicle,  San  Francisco. 
A  rattling  good  story  for  boys. — Republican,  Denver,  CoU 

VOLUME  FOUR 

UNDER  TOGO  FOR  JAPAN 

Or  Three  Young  Americans  on  Land  and  Sea 

310  pages    Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute    12mo    Cloth  $1.25 

'  I  "HE  "Soldiers  of  Fortune  Series"  is  a  continuation  of  the  famous 
"  Old  Glory  Series,"  and  enjoys  equal  popularity.  The  prin- 
cipal characters  are  Ben  and  Larry  Russell,  Gilbert  Pennington, 
and  the  fine  old  gunner,  Luke  Striker,  all  of  whom  are  well  known 
to  thousands  of  readers.  The  climax  of  the  book  naturally  deals 
with  the  Battle  of  the  Sea  of  Japan  and  Admiral  Togo's  wonderful 
victory,  in  which  Larry  and  Luke  Striker  bear  an  honorable  part. 
The  fortunes  of  Ben  and  Gilbert  Pennington  on  land  also  furnish 
much  that  is  of  interest. 

The  youth  who  finds  a  good  story  of  war  adventure  on  the  sea  to  his  liking  wiii 
gain  his  heart's  desire  in  "  Under  To£o  for  Japan." — Philadelphia  Press. 

Young  readers  will  find  the  volume  entertaining  from  first  to  last. — Nevjs,  Said- 
more,  Md. 

Will  undoubtedly  prove  a  favorite  with  the  boys. — Advertiser,  Newark,  N.J, 

No  more  popular  book  for  boys  could  be  imagined  just  at  tJiis  Uukj,— 
Christian  Endeavor  World. 


PAN-AMERICAN  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEMEYER 


VOLUME  ONE 

LOST  ON  THE  ORINOCO 

Or  American  Boys  in  Venezuela 

12mo    Cloth    Illustrated    Price  $1.25 

THIS  volume  tells  of  five  American  youths,  who,  with  their  tutor,  sail 
from  New  York  to  La  Guayra,  touching  at  Curacao  on  the  way. 
They  visit  Caracas,  go  westward  to  the  Gulf  of  Maracaibo  and  lake  of 
the  same  name,  and  at  last  find  themselves  in  the  region  of  the  mighty 
Orinoco,  and  of  course  they  have  some  exciting  experiences,  one  of  which 
gives  name  to  the  book. 

Its  pictures  of  South  American  life  and  scenery  are  novel  and  instructive.— 
The  Literary  World,  Boston. 

The  scenes  described  are  of  the  sort  to  charm  the  hearts  of  adventurous  boys.— 
The  Outlook,  N.  T. 

VOLUME  TWO 

THE  YOUNG  VOLCANO  EXPLORERS 

Or  American  Boys  in  the  West  Indies 

12mo    Cloth    Illustrated    Price  $1.25 

THE  boys,  with  their  tutor,  sail  from  Vesezuela  to  the  West  Indies, 
stopping  at  Jamaica,  Cuba,  Hayti,  and  Porto  Rico.  They  have 
numerous  adventures  on  the  way,  and  then  set  out  for  St.  Pierre,  Mar- 
tinique, where  they  encounter  the  effects  of  the  eruption  of  Mt.  Pelee, 
and  two  of  the  boys  are  left  on  a  raft  to  shift  for  themselves  Life  in  the 
West  Indies  is  well  portrayed. 

VOLUME  THREE 

YOUNG  EXPLORERS  OF  THE  ISTHMUS 
Or  American  Boys  in  Central  America 

306  pages     Cloth     Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute     Price  $1.25 

DELATES  adventures  in  a  tour  covering  Nicaragua,  Costa  Rica, 
1  *■  and  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  The  party  travel  the  various  canal 
routes,  and  have  a  number  of  highly  interesting  experiences.  The  vol- 
ume contains  a  vast  amount  of  timely  information,  and  will  be  read  witt 
interest  by  young  men  as  well  as  boys. 


PAN-AMERICAN  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEMEYER 


VOLUME  FOUR 

YOUNG  EXPLORERS  OF  THE  AMAZON 
Or  American  Boys  in  Brazil 

300  pages     12mo     Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute    Price  $1.25 

AN  absorbing  tale  of  sight-seeing  and  adventures  in 
Brazil.  The  five  boys  and  their  tutor  travel  the 
whole  seacoast  from  Rio  de  Janeiro  to  Para,  and  then 
move  up  the  Amazon  into  the  rubber  country  and  beyond. 
The  volume  is  filled  with  pen-pictures  of  life  as  it  exists 
in  Brazil  to-day,  and  will  be  heartily  enjoyed  by  all  young 
people. 

The  Pan-American  Series  by  Edward  Stratemeyer  has  been  declared  by 
the  boys  of  this  country  to  be  the  most  up-to-date  of  all  reading  for  the 
young.    Filled  with  action  and  good  fellowship. —  Waverley  Magazine. 

VOLUME  FIVE 

TREASURE  SEEKERS  OF  THE  ANDES 

Or  American  Boys  in  Peru 

310    pages     Illustrated  by  Charles  Nuttall      Price  $1.25 

THIS  volume  takes  the  young  explorers  from  the  head 
of  the  Amazon  River  to  the  coast  of  Peru  and  then 
into  the  mighty  snow-topped  mountains.  One  of  the  boys 
obtains  possession  of  a  secret  regarding  a  Spanish  treasure 
and,  with  a  companion,  goes  in  quest  of  the  same,  and  both 
get  lost  in  a  series  of  caves.  The  volume  is  up-to-date  and 
will  please  both  young  and  old. 

Mr.  Stratemeyer  has  acquired  the  art  of  weaving  a  good  deal  of  solid 
information  with  his  web  of  startling  adventure. — San  Francisco  Bulletin. 


COLONIAL  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEMEYER 


FIRST  VOLUME 

WITH  WASHINGTON  IN  THE  WEST 

Or  a  Soldier  Boy s  Battles  in  the  Wilderness 

Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute    302  pages     $1.25 

MR.  STRATEMEYER  has  woven  into  an  excellent  story  something 
*■  *•  of  Washington's  youthful  experience  as  a  surveyor,  leading  on 
to  the  always  thrilling  Braddock's  defeat.  The  hero,  David  Morris, 
is  several  years  younger  than  Washington,  with  whom  he  becomes 
intimately  associated.  Pictures  of  pioneer  life  are  given  ;  scenes  with 
friendly  Indians ;   and  old-time  games. 

SECOND  VOLUME 

MARCHING  ON  NIAGARA 

Or  The  Soldier  'Boys  of  the  Old  Frontier 

Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute    Price  $1.25 

'THE  story  relates  the  doings  of  two  young  soldiers  who  join  the 
*■  Colonial  forces  in  a  march  on  Fort  Niagara,  during  the  time  of 
the  war  with  France,  when  the  whole  territory  between  the  Blue 
Ridge  and  the  Great  Lakes  was  in  a  state  of  unrest.  Many  side  lights 
are  thrown  into  the  colonial  homes,  and  much  useful  information  is 
given  of  the  pioneers  who  helped  to  make  our  country  what  it  is  to-day. 

David  Morris  is  a  fine  fellow,  and  about  him  is  woven  a  fine  "Injun"  story  that 
is  sure  to  delight  the  boys. —  Universalist  Leader,  Boston. 

THIRD  VOLUME 

cAT  THE  FALL  OF  MONTREAL 

Or  a  Soldier  'Boy's  Final  Victory 

Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute     Price  $1.25 

THIS  volume  relates  the  adventures  of  Dave  Morris  and  his  cousin 
Henry  during  the  two  last  campaigns  against  the  French  for  the 
possession  of  Canada  and  the  territory  below  the  great  lakes.  The  scal- 
ing of  the  heights  of  Quebec  under  General  Wolfe,  and  the  memorable 
battle  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  are  given  in  detail.  There  are  many 
stirring  scenes  of  battle,  and  there  are  also  adventures  while  fishing  and 
hunting,  and  with  the  Indians. 

The  chief  charm  of  Mr.  Stratemevtr's  stories  lies  in  the  fact  that  an  enormous 
quantity  of  valuable  information,  collected  from  the  most  reliable  sources,  is 
deftly  woven  into  the  narrative  without  taking  away  from  the  interest.— 
Philadelphia  Inquirer. 


COLONIAL  SERIES 

By  EDWARD  STRATEHEYER 

FOURTH  VOLUME 

ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  PONTIAC 

Or  Pioneer  Boys  of  the  Ohio 

Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute     Price  $1.25 

HTHIS  volume    tells  of  times  in  our  country  immediately  after  the  war 
■*■       with  France  for  the  possession  of  Canada.     A  fight  with  the  Indians 
and  the  French  in  a  snowstorm  is  especially  realistic,   and  the  entire  book 
carries  with  it  the  atmosphere  of  colonial  times. 

Boys  are  attracted  to  stories  bv  Edward  Stratemeyer,  and  they  will  enjoy   "On 
the  Trail  of  Pontiac.*'— Plain   Dialer,    Cleveland,    O. 

VOLUME  FTVE 

THE  FORT  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Or  The  Soldier  Boys  of  the  Indian  Trails 

306  pages     Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute     Price  $1.25 

""THIS  story  is  one  of  the  best  tales  of  Colonial  days  penned  by  this 
*■  favorite  author  for  young  people.  A  central  figure  is  the  noted 
Indian  warrior,  Pontiac,  and  the  particulars  are  given  of  the  rise  and  fall 
of  that  awful  conspiracy  against  the  whites,  which  will  newer  be  forgotten, 
and  vivid  pen  pictures  are  given  of  fights  in  and  around  the  forts  and  at  a 
trading-post  on  the  Ohio. 

VOLUME  SIX 

TRAIL  AND  TRADING  POST 

Or  The  Young  Hunters  of  the  Ohio 

320  pages     Illustrated     Price  $1.25 

A  FINE  closing  volume  to  this  deservingly  popular  series.  Here  we 
again  meet  the  Morris  boys,  and  many  other  friends.  The  plot 
centres  about  the  possession  of  a  certain  trading-post  on  the  Ohio  River  at 
a  time  just  previous  to  the  Revolution,  and  there  are  some  encounters 
with  the  unfriendly  Indians  and  with  some  Frenchmen  who  wished  to 
claim  the  post  as  their  own. 

There  are  few  authors  whose  books  have  so  wide  and  so  thoroughly  satisfactory 
»  reading  as  those  by  Mr.  Stratemeyer. —  Courier,  Boston. 


GOOD  BOOKS  FOR  BOYS 

By  EDWARD  STRATEMEYER 

TWO  YOUNG  LUMBERMEN 

Or  From  Maine  to  Oregon  for  Fortune 

320  pages    Cloth    Illustrated    Price  $1.25 

A  SPLENDID  story,  the  scene  shifting  from  Maine  to 
Michigan  and  the  Great  Lakes,  and  then  to  the  Col- 
umbia and  the  Great  Northwest.  The  heroes  are  two  sturdy 
youths  who  have  been  brought  up  among  the  lumbermen 
of  their  native  State,  and  who  strike  out  in  an  honest  en- 
deavor  to  better  their  condition.  An  ideal  volume  for  every 
wide-awake  American  who  wishes  to  know  what  our  great 
lumber  industry  is  to-day. 

Mr.  Stratemeyer's  books  are  not  only  entertaining  but  instructive. — Daily 
Press,  Portland,  Me. 

Profitable  reading  for  its  information  concerning  a  great  American  indus- 
try.—  Outlook,  New  York. 

The  book  is  an  excellent  one  for  youngsters. — Republican,  Springfield, 
Mass. 

A  rattling  good  story. — Herald,  Baltimore,  Md. 

Mr.  Stratemeyer  is  able  to  give  an  air  of  reality  to  his  work  which  com' 
mends  it. — Chicago  News. 

BETWEEN  BOER  AND  BRITON 

Or  Two  Boys'  Adventures  in  South  Africa, 

Illustrated  by  A.  Burnham  Shute    354  pages    Price  $1.25 

RELATES  the  experiences  of  two  boys,  cousins  to 
each  other,  one  American  and  the  other  English, 
whose  fathers  are  engaged  in  the  Transvaal,  one  in  farming 
and  the  other  in  mining  operations.  While  the  two  boys 
are  off  on  a  hunting  trip  after  big  game  the  war  between 
the  Boers  and  Britons  suddenly  breaks  out,  and  while  en- 
deavoring to  rejoin  their  parents  the  boys  find  themselves 
placed  between  hostile  armies. 

A  stirring  story  of  the  South  African  War. — ■  The  Journal,  Indianapolis, 
Ind. 

Mr.  Stratemeyer  certainly  gets  right  next  to  the  boys'  heart  in  his  excel' 
lent  stories  of  adventure. — News,  Providence,  P.  I. 

The  author  is  one  of  the  most  accomplished  writers  for  the  young.— 
San  Prancisco  Chronicle, 


Both  Sides  of  the  Great  Civil  War 

DEFENDING  HIS  FLAG 

Or  A  Boy  in  Blue  and  a  Boy  in  Gray 

By  Edward  Stratemeyer 


431  pages    Eight  fu!I=page  illustrations  by  Griswold  Tyng 
Beautifully  bound  in  colors  and  gold    Price  $1.50 

This  tale  relates  the  adventures  of  two  boys,  or  rather 
young  men,  during  the  first  campaign  of  our  great 
Civil  War.  One  enlists  in  the  infantry  of  the  North,  while 
the  other  throws  in  his  fortunes  with  the  cavalry  of  the 
South.   Of  the  story  Mr.  Stratemeyer  himself  says  s 

"In  writing  this  work  I  have  had  but  one  object  in  view,  and  that  was 
to  give  a  faithful  picture  of  a  part  of  the  Civil  War  as  seen  from  both  sides 
of  that  never-to-be-forgotten  conflict.  During  the  war,  and  for  years  after- 
ward, grown  folk  and  young  people  were  treated  to  innumerable  books  on 
the  subject,  all  written  from  either  the  Northern  or  the  Southern  point  of 
view,  thoroughly  biased,  and  calculated  to  do  more  harm  than  good.  . 
I  think  the  time  has  come  when  the  truth,  and  the  whole  truth  at  that,  can 
be  told,  and  when  it  will  do  positive  good.  Since  the  Spanish-American 
War,  when  some  of  the  gallant  Southern  officers  and  men  made  such  records 
for  themselves  under  Old  Glory,  the  old  lines  have  been  practically  wiped 
out.  The  reconstructed  South  is  as  firm  a  part  of  our  nation  as  was  the 
old  South  during  the  first  half  of  the  last  century,  and  it  has  a  perfect  right 
to  honor  the  memories  of  those  who,  while  wearing  the  gray  and  march- 
ing under  the  stars  and  bars,  fought  so  gallantly  for  what  they  considered 
was  right  and  true." 

The  mantle  of  Henty,  as  a  writer  of  books  of  history  and  travel  for  boys,  seems  to 
have  fallen  on  Mr.  Stratemeyer. —  Z ion's  Herald,  Boston. 

Everybody  knows  that  Edward  Stratemeyer  is  the  most  widely  read  of  all  living 
American  writers  for  boys. — Dispatch,  Pittsburg,  Pa, 


American  Bays'  Biographical  Series 

By  EDWARD   STRATEMEYER 

VOLUME  ONE 

AMERICAN  BOYS 

LIFE  OF  WILLIAM  McKJNLEY 

3C0  pages     Illustrated  by  A.  B.  Shute  and  from   Photo- 
graphs   $1.25 

HERE  is  told  the  whole  story  of  McKinley's  boyhood  days,  his  life 
at  school  and  at  college,  his  work  as  a  school  teacher,  his  glorious 
career  in  the  army,  his  struggles  to  obtain  a  footing  as  a  lawyer, 
his  efforts  as  a  Congressman  and  a  Governor,  and  lastly  his  prosperous 
career  as  our  President,  all  told  in  a  style  particularly  adapted  to  beys  and 
young  men.  The  book  is  full  of  interesting  anecdotes,  all  taken  from 
life,  showing  fully  the  sincere,  honest,  painstaking  efforts  of  a  life  cut  all 
too  short.  The  volume  will  prove  an  inspiration  to  all  boys  and  young 
men,  and  should  be  in  every  library. 

For  nearly  a  year  Mr.  Stratemeyer  has  been  gathering  material  and 
giving  careful  study  to  the  life  of  the  young  William,  his  childhood,  his 
boyhood,  and  all  his  inspiring  and  romantic  history.  The  story  was  near- 
ing  its  end  when  the  awful  finale  came  and  tragedy  ended  the  drama  of 
President  McKinley's  life.  —  New  York  Journal. 

VOLUME  TWO 

AMERICAN  BOYS'  LIFE  OF 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT 

300  pages     l2mo    Illustrated  from  Photographs     $1.25 

THIS  excellent  work  for  young 
people  covers  the  whole  life  of 
our  strenuous  executive,  as  school- 
boy, college  student,  traveler,  author, 
hunter  and  ranchman,  as  assembly- 
man, as  civil  service  commissioner, 
as  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Navy. 
as  a  daring  rough  rider,  as  Governor 
of  New  York,  and  lastly  as  President. 
Full  of  stories  taken  from  real  life 
and  told  in  a  manner  to  interest  both 
young  and  old. 

We  unreservedly  recommend  Mr.  Strate- 
They  are  wholesome,  accurate  as  to  historical 


roeyw't  books  for  boys. 

i?<etai!fc.  and  alwavs  interesting. — Boston  Times 


